Halo: AfterShock
by Savi0r
Summary: To get him back, they will need to go through thick and thin, surrounded by enemies. But, have they bitten off more than they can chew? And, will he really be worth all the bloodshed that is to come? The story of the rescue of one of Earth's Heroes. R&R!
1. Chapter 1: The Sands of Time

Hey guys. I've been reading around these archives for quite some time, and have been impressed by quite a lot of the content. I thought I might be able to add to the archives with my own little ideas. This here's my first Fanfic, so any kind of constructive feedback would be well used. Thanks!

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**Welcome to the UNSC Archives and Database.**

**Please enter your username and password, or scan your retina/fingerprint.**

**Username:** DRARCHER

**Password:** ****************_

**Authenticating...**

**Authenticated.**

**...bringing up file log CLAS-B777**

**...**

…

**Relevant information below.**

**Year: **2555

**Operation:** Recovery

**Classification code:** _2ea46ox118672_

**Recovery program active; #850-0857385783-00P-REG-DDF**

**Running command matrix** "DATA-RECOV1"

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**scanning...**

**Results on-screen.**

**Location: **Deep Space (Unknown location; nearest star cluster: Gamma Paradus-4738x, 3.25 light-years away)

**Ship:** Inferno (Prowler III class Heavy Frigate, I.D Code 44683-275660-786), flagship of the Third Outer Rim Fleet

**Recovered Item:** Voice data chip neural implant; serial code corresponds to that of Admiral Michael Augustus Fulham. Associated data can be recovered from archive file: _8x34822-48859U_

Data Chip Epsilon-_025_; **READING...**

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**...ERROR: **

**Memory Corrupt;** _0x384987840932847989_

_0x48598374205835098_

_0x84083753900148394_

_0x58347689810924747_

**PROTOCOL:** activate  
**Scanning for uncorrupted data...**

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…

…

**UNCORRUPT DATA RECOVERED: **Audio file; Duration: 1:07;

**Audio script listed below:**

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**-RADAR OPERATOR-**" ...I've got hostile contacts! 30 degrees off port side! Range; thirty thousand and closing fast! Orders, Admiral?"

**-ADMIRAL-**"Form up the fleet behind us; Prowlers in front. Delta Formation. Watch for more contacts."

**-COMMUNICATIONS OFFICER-**"Comms is transmitting right now."

**-ADMIRAL-**"...Actually, broadcast me directly."

**-COMMUNICATIONS OFFICER-**"Yes sir!"

**-ADMIRAL-**"...Good day, gentlemen. We must be quick and precise. Our target planet, the one transmitting the recovery beacon, is 20 degrees of port side, just over there. However, as you can see, there is a large Jiralhanae fleet blockading the planet. We need to get through that blockade."

**-ADMIRAL-**"We'll be going in hard, and fast. We'll punch a little hole through their armored screen and advance from there. Targets are being transmitted as we speak. Nothing further. Get to work, gentlemen."

**-RADAR OPERATOR-**"Admiral, sir! Targets locked, transmitting targeting vectors to weapons right now, sir."

**-ADMIRAL-**"Got it. Comms, get Weapons command on the line, and tell them to fire on my mark."

**-COMMUNICATIONS OFFICER-**"Roger; I'll patch you through to them right away.... Got 'em, sir!"

**-ADMIRAL-**"Okay. Weaps, can you hear me? All cannons; firing in Three."

**-ADMIRAL-**"Two."

**-ADMIRAL-**"One-What Th..."

**-STATIC-**

**-END RECORDING-**

**Log file: **_CLAS-B777_

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**Accessing Archives:**

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**Access Granted. Please Wait...**

**Archives-News-References-Holobooks- **"Mankind – The Rises and The Falls" – Author; S.S, Published; 2555

**FIND:** "2555"

**Searching...**

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…

…

**Section Found**

**Relevant data listed below**

**ARTICLE:**

The year is 2555. After the devastation of the conflict with the Covenant, humanity, with the help of the Sangheili, have started to rebuild and repair. The Elites have shared their technology with the humans, resulting in the humans now possessing powerful lasers as their staple ammunition; Sangheili scientists helped them in their cause. These days, the Spartan Laser is not the only red beam on the battlefield.

However, a prosperous relationship with the Sangheili, the death of the Prophet of Truth and the eradication of the Flood does not mean that the Separatists and the humans are safe. The Jiralhanae, the vicious Brutes, still roam the galaxy free. While many of them "joined" their Prophet on the "Great Journey", a few retreated back to their homeworld, and they still possess a large amount of the ships and weapons that Truth gave them. They have reverse engineered their weapons and are now arming the remnants of their race to go on the offensive once more.

Amidst the chaos of re-building and re-arming, the UNSC is also expanding its borders. Many planets like Harvest were discovered, and the UNSC is now spreading colonists to new locations around the universe. Far-away Communications hubs were build by the thousands.

In this year, one discovery would change everything. A lonely UNSC Communications hub in the constellation GP-4827x picked up a recovery beacon. A recovery beacon that had been active for three years. A recovery beacon codenamed "S-117"...

**COMMAND: EXIT**

**Holobooks-News-References-Archives**

**Exiting Archives. Please Hold...**

**Welcome to the UNSC Database. My name is Selina and I will be your-**

**...Sorry, access to this area is restricted. Only authorized personnel can ent-**

**COMMAND PROTOCOL: OVERRIDE_AI**

…

**Command accepted. Please hold...**

**Database-Find**

**...**

**What would you like to search for?**

…

**Acknowledged, Please Hold. Scanning DatabaseCLAS-B...**

**Data file found.**

**Opening transmission log.**

**Relevant data listed below**

_______

**ENCODED:** YES

**FROM:** Admiral Fulham

**TO:** Admiral Archer

**REGARDING:** PROJECT: Recovery

**CLAS-B777**

**DATE:** 07/09/2555

Derek;

I'm having doubts about this mission. Recently intercepted transmissions between the Brute forces located in this sector reveal increasing worries about something they call "them". We're not too sure altogether what "they" are, but the Brutes seem to have grave concerns about them.

We ran across a destroyed Brute task force today. It was horrible, I must say, even though we are at war against them. Evidence found at the scene suggests that the three ships were part of the Fleet of Ingenious Achievement, and transmitter codes correspond to transmissions we intercepted just a few days ago of a Brute force under attack by "them". Transmissions ceased a few minutes after we intercepted them. The three CSS-class carriers were absolutely gutted, their hulls scarred, scorched, and, in many a place, melted right through. The debris around the ships was a mix of ship metal, melted hull and the bodies. Dead Jiralhanae, in the hundreds and thousands. No-one knows what hit the force, but everyone suspects that it's not the end we'll be seeing of it.

On a brighter note, Sierra 117's recovery beacon is getting ever closer. Soon, we'll have recovered him and Cortana. I'm sure Cortana will be near the end of her life-span soon, though, so we need to hurry if we want to be able to re-configure her and save her. We can't have all that precious data lost to us, and, from what I've heard, she's assisted S-117 more than once. We can't have her going rampant on us now, can we?

Everything about the fleet is fine. Morale is up, ships are functioning perfectly, although there's been some strange interference traversing across the Comms recently, all this static, and, mixed in with it, something that seems like people screaming, and sometimes whispering. We passed through a nebula not too long ago, so the technicians have attributed it to the nebula until they can come up with a clear diagnostic.

I'm still worried about this mysterious fleet though. Sounds like something even the Brutes can't control, although I'm sure that the Rim Fleet can take care of it. However, if it's not too much trouble, could you possibly bring about Vanguard fleet behind us? I might be asking a bit too much, but it'd be appreciated; I'd love it for someone to watch our backs; we might need it soon.

Report time. I'll transmit again later.

Take care, old friend.

**-END TRANSMISSION-**

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**Log file:** _ex5830357392_

**-CLOSE LOG-**

**CLASB-Database**

**Logging you out. Please hold...**

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	2. Chapter 2: It Begins

**Hey guys. Another chapter here, I wrote them before the two-day posting limit was up.**

** Spacefan: Yeah, I made it like the Jiralhanae kinda had their own little split-thingy, where the Brutes who still believed in the Great journey committed suicide to join the Prophets, and the oned who didn't anymore retreated back to their homeworld, and restocked for their vendetta against the UNSC-Elite forces.**

**I didn't notice "surmise". Thanks for picking it out. =p**

**And, DON'T LOSE HOPE ON HALO 4! With all this "Halo 3: ODST", "Halo Wars", "Halo: Chronicles", i'm sure they'll get more than one idea for Halo 4.**

** Bezerkoid; SERGEANT STACKERRR! I'd shove Johnson in, but.... yeah, we all know the story. Here's a little hint though: he might have escaped the clutches of death... BUT NOTHING FURTHER.**

**I used the journal format to make it look like it was a high-level Admiral accessing logs of this mission; although in this chapter and the next few, I'll be digging into the battle on the mysterious planet from the troops' perspective. Lots to keep you happy about!**

**_______**

**Welcome to the UNSC Database. My name is Se-**

**COMMAND PROTOCOL: OVERRIDE_AI**

…

**Command accepted.**

**Opening folder: CLAS-B777**

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…

…

…

**Entering Transmission log #085...**

**Relevant data listed below.**

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**DATA LOG: TRANSMISSION #32048255794**

**ENCODED: YES**

**FROM: **Admiral Fulham

**TO:** Admiral Archer

**REGARDING:** PROJECT: Recovery

**CLAS-B777**

**DATE: 10/09/2555**

Derek;

I know that this mission is very important, but I'm just not sure whether sending a full-scale fleet was the right idea, especially with this talk about some mystery enemy roaming the same area; you know I care for all soldiers, whether they be Sangheili or Humans, under my command. I don't want to see any of them harmed. The sooner we find this mystery planet and S-117, the sooner we'll all be safe.

I understand that you cannot bring Vanguard to our position, but thank you for asking up the chain of command.

Something's up. The alert sirens are going off. I'd better get back to post. Will get back to you as soon as crisis is over.

**-END TRANSMISSION-**

**COMMAND: BROWSE NEXT TRANS.**

**_______**

**DATA LOG: TRANSMISSION #32048256032**

**ENCODED: YES**

**FROM: **Admiral Fulham

**TO:** Admiral Archer

**REGARDING:** PROJECT: Recovery

**CLAS-B777**

**DATE: 15/09/2555**

Derek;

Thanks for your inquiry about my fleets' safety. Turns out we just ran into a small Brute picket force. Finished them off quickly, although one managed to limp away. We've traced it back to it's base planet, and we successfully defeated all Brute forces; minimum casualties. We retrieved a headset recording of the battle; it's attached below.

**________**

**OFFICER: **Sergeant K. Powell, UNSC Marines, ODST Battalion

**RECORDING LOG ID: #00683957**

**TIME: 0730, 11/09/2555**

"MEN! Helmets on, cameras activated," a purple-striped ODST in front of us shouts.

"Got it, Sergeant Stacker!" the rest of us yell, including me. The man standing in front of us is Gunnery Sergeant Pete Stacker, somewhat of a legend amongst UNSC forces, surmised only by Avery Johnson and the Master Chief Himself. He fought alongside the Master Chief at Delta Halo, and escaped Delta Halo himself. He ended up on Earth, and was there to greet the Master Chief when he came plummeting back to Earth. He fought alongside the Master Chief on the Ark, and now he's here to lead us back into battle against the Jiralhanae Remnant.

I, myself, joined the UNSC Marines not long after Mombasa, Voi and the Ark. Pete Stacker was one of the inspirations what made me join. Not long after I joined, some ODST commander (I think his name was Hendricks) noted my sharp eye for marksmanship, my keen senses of stealth and my expertise Strategies and Tactics. I was drafted into the ODST, and climbed my way up the ranks pretty quickly for my treatment of all soldiers as fair, my love of combat and my command intuition, I guess.

We were standing under the newest range of troop gunship: the Falcon, a large advancement over the old Pelican; the "bucket of bolts", as we now deemed it. The Falcon followed up along the basic designs of the pelican, but is smaller, more armored and packs quite a punch on it's own. An open troop bay facing backwards made way for a sliding-side, six-seater troop bay; it carried a fully-equipped UNSC and Sangheili Armory, the wings were made more obvious and were moved down; the cockpit could now seat four, it was fully shielded and the whole ship was 100% space-capable. These days, Drop Pods were only used as last-ditch, as this way, troops on the ground could have efficient transport. However, the most magnificent part of this gunship, to the pilots and soldiers, was that the ship had an AI. Well, okay, so the AI's weren't that awesome. But they were happy for the reason the AI's were installed. Not for an absurd reason such as monitor the ship; monitoring the ship was ridiculously easy to do. The AI was installed for one reason and one reason only; to monitor the weapons. And when I say weapons, I mean weapons.

All Falcons had 4 wing-mounted exchangeable turrets; they could alternate between a 10mm Minigun bore and a laser beam much like a Spartan Laser that could go up to ranges of five kilometres and still cut through armor like a hot knife cutting warm butter. They were also equipped with two Concussion Missile pods that doubled as entry stairs, and once the troop bay doors were slid open, there was a mount on each side that could house either another 10mm Minigun or a belt-fed N-9 Sniper Rifle. And that was only the stock model. ODST and SpecOps had the choice of buying aftermarket parts, and Echo Platoon had decided to equip all six Falcons under our command with another two underslung interchangeable mounts each, these ones alternating between a .50 Hollow-point gas-charged explosive rounds and 1-oh-5 Rounds, a type of shell that was invented in the late 20th century, and was so effective it had survived right up until now, and had been mainly used in backwater planets until a single bombing run by an old, modified Pelican had destroyed a small Jiralhanae outpost of about a hundred Brutes down to the very last Brute. The 1-oh-5's these days were filled with all kinds of goodies; EMP's, shrapnel, incendiary liquid... they had many purposes, and could do many things.

Vehicles aside, armor and weapons hadn't been left behind. Although the look and style of ODST armor didn't change much, it was now quadruple-reinforced to withstand a direct hit from a Gravity Hammer without giving much. They were also equipped with shields, and ODST's could purchase Combat AI's if they wanted to. Muscular strength was also increased while donning the suit, and for Ghost Squadron, we had our own sets of Active Invisibility installed. They could run for hours on end, and, due to technological advancements, only required a few minutes' recharge time.

We were now armed with the also interchangeable E-3 blaster. It had a CQB attachment (Shotgun), a ranged attachment (Sniper) and a standard attachment (Rifle). The E-3 forgoes solid ammunition for energy-based projectiles, but still runs on an energy clip, to avoid overheating, which could potentially cause third-class burns on a soldier; not very good for combat environments.

Along with this, our starfleets had been re-built and re-structured with the help of the Sangheili. Humanity was better equipped to fight the Jiralhanae than ever before.

"Alright, men," Stacker said, our helmets all receiving his signal, "load up, and let's move!"

Ghost Squad clambered into our custom stealth Falcon, paid with with our own salary, and aptly named "Sightless Apparition". Our pilot, Jensen, powered up the gunship with a smooth hum. His voice came over the intercom;

"Ladies and gentlemen; strap yourselves in. it's gonna be one hell of a ride."

"Seconded," the voice of our English-accented-sarcastic-yet-cool-headed AI Jenkins, broadcasted. "Oh, by the way, I'd advise firing up the guns now, as I hacked into the radar scans the Admiral ordered yesterday..."

"...WHAT?!" we shouted.

"...and I saw quite a few Seraph patrols." His holographic representation appeared out of the holo-stand on the left, and he stared at us, dressed in, of all things, a typical butler outfit. "What?" he said, staring at us staring at him.

"...you HACKED into our own Database?!" said Chung, our resident Electronics Expert. "Are you OUT OF YOUR MIND?! Why didn't you just ask?!"

"...I did, and Alexa wasn't very nice in her response," Jenkins responded, his face upturned in a snobbish gesture. "She tried to lock me out. Luckily for me, my good pal Chung here," he winked at Chung, who slapped his forehead and sighed, "Taught me a few secrets. I managed to get in. Look, the point is that this might save our skins."

"He's right... I suppose..." said Jones, our Demo expert. "I hate it when he's right," he muttered, but loud enough so that everyone could hear. "We really should get a move-on, y'know..." he said, motioning out of the windows to the other Falcons, which were already rising in the air.

"Rightio!" exclaimed Jensen, somewhat overly eagerly. With a touch of the control board and a nudge of the joystick, the gunship rose gently into the air. Another touch on the throttle, and as the Sun of this solar system rose above the planet, the Sightless Apparition shot out of Hanger Bay R-5, and down to the green-and-blue planet below...

-TRANSMISSION CONTINUED IN NEXT-

Exiting...

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Logging out. Please hold...

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	3. Chapter 3: First Engagement, First Blood

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing that Microsoft/Bungie own.**_

**_______**

**Welcome to the UNSC Dat-**

**...Sorry, access to this area is restri-**

**COMMAND PROTOCOL: OVERRIDE_AI**

…

**Command accepted. Please hold...**

**Database-Find**

**Search In Folder "CLASB-777": **#00683958

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**1 Item(s) found:**

RECORDING LOG: #00683958

**Relevant data listed below.**

_______

Flashes. Exploding lights. Loud booms as our squad of Falcons duke and dodge down towards the mysterious planet, avoiding the masses of starfighters dogfighting. Behind us, the full might of the UNSC Third Outer Rim fleet approaches the Brute Battleships and Carriers at full speed, weapons blazing away. Wings of Archer-class interceptors scream out of our carriers as they disgorge their contents, with the Broadsword-class bombers setting up attack runs on the Brute capital ships. The Jiralhanae respond in kind, deploying a veritable purple _wall_; thousands and thousands of Seraphs. They tear off, heading for the open and un-protected Broadswords. The Archers turn for the Seraphs, ripping holes throughout their formations. The Seraphs break off from intercepting the Broadswords as they turn to engage the Archers. It's absolute chaos. And Echo Platoon is right in the middle of it.

Our Falcons weave left-and-right to avoid any debris or enemy fire. Suddenly, we hear a particularly loud whine behind us, followed by a big jolt. Jones turns around, and practically screams: "SERAPHS! INCOMING!"

Jensen sits at the controls, twisting the joystick this way and that way, trying to lose the Seraphs or at least avoid their fire. However, our Brute pursuers follow closely, managing to stay on our tail. "Darn it!" he shouts, as the ship takes another heavy blow. Lucky we have shields, and safety harnesses, otherwise I'm sure we'd be dead. Pelicans can't take this amount of enemy fire. Not even ten Pelicans could take this.

"Shield levels at fourty-six percent," Jenkins announces. "Requesting Level one AI Autonomous control."

"Level One Control Authorised!" Jensen shouts, too caught up in dodging plasma blasts to spare a look at Jenkins.

"Copy. Activating Auto-Target; Weapons hot. Passengers, please observe the _full _capability of this craft. Look outside."

We turn our heads. At first, we notice nothing new, except for the occasional bright flash of a starfighter being destroyed; usually a Seraph. However, then, with a smooth clicking noise, the turrets on the outer wing snap around 180 degrees, and begin tracking the Seraphs behind us.

"Switching mounted turrets to laser fire; three burst, compact energy. Targets tracking... fire."

The first of the turrets fires, tearing a gaping hole just to the left of the nose on the lead Seraph. It loses control, careening wildly into the Seraph on it's right.

"Two birds with one stone," Jenkins chuckles, before turning his attention to the other two Seraphs, still doggedly pursuing the _Sightless Apparition._ "Goodbye!" he merrily exclaims, before the other two Seraphs are shredded in a hail of red beams.

"...there's something _wrong_ with you..." Jones mutters again. Luckily for him, Jenkins is now monitoring the battle around, and does not hear him. Suddenly, said AI's "head" (or his holographic representation of it) jolts up.

"Alright boys. New orders from Command. We're to use the cover of this battle to get down to the surface. Once we're set up, Echo will scout out a suitable LZ for troops and vehicles. Fleet will take care of the enemy ships. We've got a wing of Archers running cover for us in case we pick up any Seraphs."

"The Admiral said he'd make a hole for us to get through... Analyzing enemy capital ships..."

Jensen spent a few more minutes avoiding enemy fighters until Jenkins popped up again.

"There! That one!" he exclaimed, pointing at a cruiser that was starting to list planet-side.

"What about it?" said Sanchez, the communications expert. "It's just a bit damaged, that's all."

"_Just a bit damaged?_ Well then, watch _this_." whispered Jenkins.

All of a sudden, a bright flash to the left caught our attention. It was the _Inferno_, the Flagship of our fleet, opening up, along with the _Fury_ and the _Vanguard_. We watched as a glowing, pulsing wall of red bolts converged on the Cruiser.

"Cover your eyes, gentlemen!" Jenkins almost shouted with glee, "This baby's going _downtown_!"

With a flash and a shockwave that buffeted every ship in the vicinity, the wall of red slammed into the Cruiser. It listed more, smaller explosions covering it's hull. Hundreds of Brutes flew out, sucked into space by the vacumn. Bits and pieces flew off the ship as it struggled to remain from being sucked into the planet's gravity well.

"Go! That's out entrance! Follow the ship down to the planet! It's trail can hide us!" Jenkins shouted, pointing.

"Gotcha!" Jensen yelled, and twisted the joystick.

The Falcon swung around, facing the now-falling cruiser. He grabbed the throttle, and shoved it up to max.

Everyone was thrown back as the Falcon screamed down to the falling cruiser, and Jensen eased up the throttle a bit as the rest of Echo joined with them and the twelve Archers of Gryphon wing ran escort, all ships continuously dodging strips of glowing-hot debris.

Soon enough, the ship started glowing. "Entering Atmosphere. Requesting Level two AI Autonomy." Jenkins said, glowing matrices running all over his body.

"Request granted," Jensen sighed, as the ship started to vibrate.

"Copy. Acvitating Heat shield, dimming all viewing ports. Taking ship under control; deploying flaps. Maneuvering to optimum vector. Please hold on _tight._" Jenkins said, the glowing matrices on his skin now moving ever faster.

"C'mon boys," said Hodge, the CQB expert, as he turned around. "Jenkins is _more_ than qualified to handle this ship; let's suit up, get all our gear together."

The rest of the crew complied, following him into the armory. Soft, warm light cast down on the rows and rows of weapons; E-3's, S-9's, Spartan Lasers, Genesis Rocket Launchers, even a pair of Hayabusa's, energy swords that functioned much like the ones the Sangheili so favoured, but with an energy shaft much like a katana. On the Sangleili side, there were rows and rows of Plasma Rifles, Carbines, Beam Rifles, Energy Swords and a row full of Fuel Rod Guns. The Elites hadn't enough time to redevelop their weapons due to them assisting us in rebuilding, but they had time to modify existing weapons. Accuracy and battery power was increased significantly, and all weapons used much less power to do even more damage now. The best ting was that every single Sangheili weapon didn't have a battery limit anymore. They recharged when you didn't use them. Excellent for tight situations.

Being an all-round man, I first grabbed an E-3 and a couple of power cells, attaching the cells to my belt. Hefting that in my hand, I slung a Beam Rifle on my back, and then magnetically attached a Plasma Rifle to each leg. To cap that off, I grabbed a pair of Energy Sword hilts and attached them magnetically to my waist, and grabbed a Hayabusa hilt.

Looking around, I saw Jones with a Fuel Rod Gun and Genesis strapped to his back, and hefting a spartan laser and a Shotgun E-3. Chung was in the corner, arming himself with a dual Plasma Sword set, and strapping his portable laptop to his thigh. Hodge had a shotgun E-3 in each hand, two Genesis' strapped to his back, and a pair of his custom Brute Maulers, his favourite weapon, attached to his belt. Sanchez had outfitted himself with a Sniper E-3, a Beam Rifle, a Plasma Rifle, a Plasma Sword, the other Hayabusa and was busy attaching a belt-feed addon to his custom S-9. And Jensen had just about every single type of weapon in the armory on him. A Spartan Laser, a Genesis, two E-3's attached to his legs, two Plasma Rifles, a Plasma Sword, a Beam Rifle, and his signature weapon; a pair of pre-Ark M7 Caseless SMG's, complete with extended clip and silencer.

I shook my head and smiled. Just another day. We'd done so many of these training excercises before, it almost came as second nature.

"Alright boys," I said, "back up to the bay." let's check where Jenkins has miscalculated our landing zone to be this time." a laugh ran around the armory.

Emerging from the armory, we were back to the troop bay and cockpit. Jenkins stood on the Holo-stand, tapping his foot;

"You took your sweet time. LZ is approaching fast. Cloaking's on. Archers are outta here; they left to go get some more kills on their belt. Stacker split us up; We'll be landing within a mile of each other, but all spread out, just in case. He wants us to scout up forward first; the other teams'll form up on your six accordingly. He's instructed the AI's to remain with the ship, and for all teams to grant them Level Five AI Autonomy."

"Fair enough," Jensen said. "Level Five Authourised."

"Authenticated. Bringing the Falcon around to LZ."

The troop bay doors swung open, revealing a lush, green world not too dissimilar from a pre-industrialised Earth.

"...Kurt, long range scanner is picking up contacts; range at 5000. Just a bit of a heads-up."

"Gotcha, i'll keep that in mind."

"Setting down now!" said Jenkins, as the dark green of a forest canopy rushed up to greet us...

_______

**Another chapter and another 1500 fresh words, all for the reading. Hope you enjoyed, next chapter up before the end of the week definitely.**


	4. Chapter 4: Encounters

**Hey guys, I'm back with another installation of AfterShock. Enjoy!**

**Just for reference: "Bravo Kilo" is the designation for Brute.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing Bungie own.**

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"We're down," I said, as the _Sightless Apparition _landed with a soft thud. "Go go go! Move it!" I whispered, my helmet transmitting to the rest of my team. "Engage Active camoflague; spread out, move it up."

"Powell, do you read me? Over," came the voice of Stacker.

"Reading you nice and clear Sergeant, over."

"Good. I saw a relatively nice LZ as we were coming down; uploading the beacon to you and your squads' headsets right now."

Seconds later, a blue beacon pointing down and tagged "LZ" appeared on the inside of the visor screen.

"Copy, beacon received. We'll scout out the route. Powell, out."

"Stacker, out."

I turned round to the men under my command.

"Alright men, let's do this. Jenkins, keep watch over the ship. Keep it in camoflague. Fly it away if you have to, just don't get found."

"Got it, Kurt," Jenkins replied.

"Okay, move out! Follow me, Delta formation. Eyes up top; watch for Bravo Kilo's."

As we journeyed what we roughly estimated to be north-east, we noted that the foliage was not unlike an Earth Forest. Tall trees stood row-after-row, and we deftly sprinted between the trees. Suddenly, the radar in the top-left hand corner displayed a set of five red dots just entering the radar range, which put them out at about 500 metres.

"I've got contacts. Five of 'em. Looks like... a patrol or a sentry post. Close it up; slow down and advance."

Five other green lights blinked on the bottom-left side of my visor; the rest of my team acknowledging my move orders. We crpt forward, a tight triangle formation, until we came onto a cliff edge.

"Get down; Sanchez is with me. Everyone else stays here until further notice. Eyes up for Bravo's."

Another set of five green lights.

Me and Sanchez got onto our stomachs, and, crawling forward, came to the edge of the cliff. Swinging our Rifles out, we zoomed in on the five-man Bravo pack.

"They look like minors." Sanchez whispered. "Go for headshots."

"On it," I replied, slinging out my E-3, and targeting the nearest Bravo's head. Sanchez pulled out his S-9, and attached a silencer on, then pointed it at the Brute Pack.

"On three," I whispered. "One, two, three!"

Two seconds and five shots later, the Brutes all lay dead, drilled through their heads quite cleanly. "Ghost squad, move out, let's get off this cliff and move onwards," I ordered. "Sanchez, you take Jones and Hodge down the left side; move silently, keep a watch out for Brutes. I'll take Jensen and Chung and meet you at the bottom. Keep in contact, alert if you get in trouble. All men, guns hot. Keep it tight.

Once again, full set of green lights.

Signalling to Chung and Jensen; single file, crouch it, I'll take lead; Chung's in the middle, Jensen, get the back.

I got two whispered affirmations, and without further ado, set off, winding through the trees again, keeping my E-3 on Rifle mode pointed up, scanning the forest area.

We reached the bottom without incident, regrouped, and carried on. After a few other run-in's with Brutes, which we managed to avoid, the blue beacon was displaying "**DISTANCE TO TARGET: 0050"**. Jones, who seemed to have noticed something that I hadn't, whispered "What the fuck...?" and stepped forward. However, I had, in turn, noticed something he hadn't, and, thinking quickly, I grabbed the back of his armor and pulled him back, just a Brute came from the left, around a tree, and stepped where he was only seconds ago. Had I not noticed the Brute, we could've been in a tight spot, for there, in the middle of a large clearing marked "LZ" on our visors by a blue beacon, was a veritable Brute _camp._ There must've been at least fourty or fifty of the Neanderthals, all armed, with a pair of Prowlers and six Choppers parked in a row, and two Shade turrets on GravLift platforms. A team of six, as skilled as we were, could not take on fifty Brutes head-on with _that _kind of equipment.

"Shit!" Jones swore. He turned around. "Thanks for the save, Sarge."

"Any time, Jones, although i'd prefer it if there was no _next time._"

"Sorry Sarge. Although, you'll be happy to know that I _did_ notice a way to destroy the whole camp while you were unceremoniusly rescuing us from certain peril," he said, somewhat sarcastically. "The Brute forces are concentrated around the Shades on the Grav-platforms and the Choppers. If we can take the GravLift bases and the Choppers out, I think we can cause a chain reaction that could kill most of the Brutes, leaving us with much less to deal with. What do you think?"

"...this idea could come to fruition quite... ripely. Keep talking..."

_______

Ten minutes later, we were spread out in a semi-curcle around the Brute camp. Chung, who had Detpacks, had snuck in with Hodge, and was buys planting the miniscule devices and remote-wiring them to go off when a detonater was pressed.

The rest of us were watching the scene. Chung and Hodge were displayed through our visors with tags on top of them; much like the objective markers. Chung's displayed "GH04", while Hodge's displayed "GH02", as fourth and second members of Ghost Squadron respectively. Currently, Chung was crouching next to one of the Choppers, setting up the last bomb. Hodge was standing next to him, toting his E-3's in Shotgun mode, one in each hand.

"Okay! Bomb's set," whispered Chung. "Just press the red, and those babies'll blow to high heaven!"

"Excellent. Alright guys, double-time it back here. We've got some Neanderthal to blow up."

_______

Brute Captain Ferrukus looked over the forest, pondering the location of his scout squad. Grabbing his Brute Shot, he turned to his communications officer, a low-ranking Minor. "You!" he roared, stalking over to the minor, and hoisting his Brute Shot menacingly. "What's the status of Gamma Pack? Why hasn't there been any contact?!"

"I-I-I'm s-sorry sir," the Minor said fearfully, "B-but I c-cannnnot provide y-you with a-any a-a-answers."

Ferrukus growled in frustration and turned around again. "Fine! Beta Pack! Go to Gamma's Locating beacon and see if yo-"

He never finished his sentence, for, at that moment, everything around him exploded. As he watched the two gravlifts go up in a huge, bright flash and an excruciatingly loud bang, the Chopper right next to him spontaneously combusted.

A thousand hot spikes of metal entering his head were the last things he ever felt.

_______

Gunnery Sergeant Pete Stacker looked up as a large explosion rocked the ground beneath him.

"Those boys..." he chuckled, turning around to address the rest of Echo Platoon. "That's our signal. Move out!"

_______

"Shit, that was one big bang!" yelled Jones, as the smoke from the explosions dissapered.

"Hey man, I especially make my explosives to get the biggest bang possible outta them," Chung replied.

"Enough chit-chat. Save it for the night," I ordered, getting up. "Check all bodies. Make sure they're dead. If they aren't, two taps, straight in the head. I don't want any of these bastards getting up again."

"Roger that," came the chorus of replies. Meanwhile, I radioed in to Stacker.

"Get our signal?" I asked.

"Almost didn't notice it, actually," he said, his voice interlaced with sarcasm and humour. "Anyway, nice job. I'm moving Echo up now. I got a call from Command a bit earlier; they said they'd dealt with the Covenant fleet above the planet. Reinforcements are inbound as soon as we get to that LZ."

"Well, we're already here. We'll set up a beacon and inform command. We'll secure the perimeter while we're at it."

"Got it, trooper. Sit tight, the rest of us are on our way. Stacker, out."

"Copy. Powell, out."

_______

**And thus comes the end of another installation of AfterShock. Keep reading, and please review if you have any ideas or criticism.**

**-Sunny**


	5. Chapter 5: The Beginnings of Carnage

_______

**DIRECT OPEN COMMAND: FOLDER CLASB-777**

**AUTOMATIC-OVERRIDE AI CODE: **************

**AUTHENTICATED. OPENING FOLDER CLASB-777...**

**Search in Folder "CLASB-777": **#00683961

**Item found. **

**Opening attached file...**

**Data recorded below.**

_______

"...Brute packs coming upon the flanks! WE NEED REINFORCEMENTS!"

"...MOW 'EM DOWN...!"

"...There's... too many of them!"

"Watch your left!"

"Come get it, you big overgrown Gorilla-"

-Scream-

"Oh shit! They got Williams! Cut that fucker down!"

"Fire in the hall!"

"Sir, there's something over there..."

"...CHOPPE-"

-Explosion, screams-

-static-

**_______**

"As you can see, or rather, hear, Sergeant," muttered Command Sergeant Major Li, "the Brute forces are rather well entrenched in that city. We sent in Fire Team Alpha twenty standard hours ago, and this transmission was received approximately 15 standard minutes ago. That city is influential; it could reveal exactly what planet this is and what civilization lives, or lived, on it, as it appears the Jiralhanae have fully overrun every city and taken over the planet. That being said, I do not believe that the Brute forces are as concentrated here as anywhere else on this planet; this city must be important. I need you to assemble a force and capture it."

"With all due respect, sir, what are we even doing on this planet?" The voice of Gunnery Sergeant Pete Stacker came back on the radio, rife with frustration.

"One; we can use it as a foothold against the planet emitting the Master Chief's beacon. We can't assume that the Covenant haven't discovered the beacon; it's been emitting for three years, for Christ's sake. Not even Brutes are that dumb. We're going to need a proper plan going in. Two; I think it's fitting to find out what kind of civilization existed on this planet. If we ever discover them alive, we might even be able to forge an alliance."

Stacker sighed. "I'll get Ghost Squadron in. They're my platoon's stealth specialists. I'll get them to scout out the area, plot out weak points in the defensive structure, maybe run some guerrilla warfare operations, basically open the way for us to take them down. I presume we're looking at an encampment of around one-thousand?"

"You presume right, Sergeant."

"Excellent. I'll put together a strike team, and jam their communications as well, just in case. And sir?"

"Yes, Sergeant?"

"I would like to complain against your statement that not even Brutes are that dumb, sir."

Li smiled weakly. "Just shut up and get that team in, Pete."

"Yes sir. Will inform you once they're inside. Stacker, out."

"Copy that. Li, out."

_______

"..Okay, I'll assemble my team. Kurt, out." I spoke into the headset, eyes scanning the forest edge.

Grabbing my E-3, I turned around to the rest of Ghost Squadron, sitting in a circle around a little campfire. It was the second night after our assault of the LZ, and we had a nice little operation going on, with a few teams of marines already deployed. The base was fully defended, with a nice hundred-metre perimetre and automated machine gun turrets ready to fire at any hostile thing that moved. Bravo Platoon, another ODST Specialist Platoon, had set up in another, larger LZ a bit to the south, and was setting up a Base of Operations there. They'd established a supply route between the two LZ's, and troops were being ferried to and fro.

"Where're we off to this time, Sarge?" asked Jones. He had this special intuition of being able to tell whenever we were moving off on a mission.

"Infiltration into the nearest Brute-controlled city. 20 kliks north. Low-profile. You guys still remember FT Alpha? Those dudes that came in yesterday, stayed for about an hour and then shot off up north? They were sent to scout out some half-destroyed city that looked like it had been abandoned. Turns out not so. They were set upon by Brute packs and were killed. Sergent Major Li has deemed it important to capture that Brute stronghold, and, along the way, destroy those Brutes. It seems like the largest stronghold on the planet; we take this down, we could have a major advantage over the Brute forces on this planet."

"Our job is to infiltrate the city and set it up for assault. We'll scout out the weak points; run a few Black Ops jobs, do a bit of guerilla warfare. We're to help bring that base down."

"Sounds like a plan," Sanchez chuckled. "When're we moving out?"

"Give it a few more hours. We'll move in about... thirty minutes. Synchronize your HUD Timepieces with the time aboard the _Sightless Apparition_. We'll use it to get into the city. Jenkins! Warm up the _Sightless'_ engines, and get the cloaking ready. Men; grab your equipment, supplies, everything. We'll be based in the city for up to around a week, or until our operations cease."

_______

The single, cloaked Falcon slipped through the skies, quiet as a feather. It's direction: a smouldering wasteland of half-destroyed buildings and rubble, about 15 kilometres away. Jensen and Sanchez were in the cockpit with rifle scopes, scanning for any AA Wraith's that might pop their heads out at us, while the rest of us were in the troop hold, discussing plans for entering and setting up a base somewhere in the city.

"I think, said Hodge, brow furrowed, "the best idea is to just get Jenkins to land us inside the city walls. That way, there's no trouble getting in, no trouble getting out."

"Nope," Chung muttered, deep in thought. "Too much noise going in and out. Higher chance of getting caught by sentries, which we don't want. And, in any case, they're bound to hear us, and if we don't get caught first, then the whole place'll be on higher alert. It'll just complicate our further operations in the city, as the Brutes'll know that something's up."

"Well, then, I guess the only option is to walk in," I said, raising my head. "We'll get him to drop us off about... 2 kilometres away, and then get him into a holding position 5 kliks away, in case we get in trouble."

"You're right," Hodge grimaced. "And after that? What should we do?"

"I reckon we should hole up somewhere safe first, and just observe for a little while. Work out command structure, and the locations of their different assets. Then, we can get down to the nitty-gritty. I guess we'll most likely be eliminating any competent Jiralhanae commanders, taking out vital points and just generally throwing them into disarray, and that's when we bust 'em up and call for the cavalry."

"Sounds like a good plan, Sarge."

"So far, so good." Sanchez came into the hold, still gripping the rifle scope. "Jenkins heard you from up front, he's scanning for a suitable LZ right now."

"thanks for the update. Now, let's get geared up and let's do this shit!"

_______

The shimmering outline of the Falcon landed in the small grassy field with a soft thud. Above it, the smouldering carcass of a once-magnificent city loomed.

Six barely-outlined silhouettes slid out of the ship, slipping into the long, flowing grass as a breeze collected up. Soon, they were lost in the sway of the grass, as the ship powered up and flew off in the direction it came from, all the while making no more noise than a whisper on the wind.

"Move move move! Keep it quiet, heads down. We aren't anticipating any action. We avoid any combat. Get to that wall and get inside."

The six figures sprinted through the trees and grass to the wall, and, climbing into a massive crater, disappered into the darkness and enemy territory...

_______


	6. Chapter 6: The Glory of Homo Sapien

**Sorry i've been out cold for so long, guys, but I've been in China and my Grandfather has the shittiest internet that has ever exsisted (no offence). So, I spent whatever time I had whipping up two longer-than-the-normal-1000-to-2000-word chapters. Don't lose faith!**

**Enjoy.**

_______

Rubble. Crumbling buildings. Craters all over the ground, big and small. Smoke, seeping out from the half-destroyed buildings and rubble. And the blood. Dark red, human-looking, and splattered everywhere.

But no bodies. Wherever we looked, there were no bodies. There was even a human-shaped splot of blood against a wall on the far side, but there was no headless or limbless corpse to accompany the splot.

"Keep moving. Team One, take the left-hand side. Team Two'll take the right. Stick to the shadows."

A second's pause. Then, the six silhouettes moved slowly down the street again.

_______

-FLASHBACK-

"Ramirez! Keep that god-damn big head of yours _down_!"whispered Liutenant Commander Hutchinson.

"Sorry sir!" whispered back Corporal Ramirez, ducking behind a piece of concrete that'd been ripped out of the ground.

"...What the hell heppened here? There's so much blood..." muttered Barnes.

"I don't know," Ramirez whispered back, getting back up and moving around the concrete. "But whatever it was, it was ba-"

One second, he was there. The next, he was still there. But a thousand deadly, glistening metal spikes covered his body. As Ramirez's body slid silently to the ground, a muffled "Whump" came from the left. Hutchinson turned, and he watched, in slow motion, as a grenade spat out from the mouth of a Brute Shot sticking out of a derelict shop doorway to the left and flew towards Barnes with frightening speed. He never managed to finish his scream, as the grenade detonated less than half a centimetre from his forehead. A cut-off scream, a flash, a loud explosion, and his head and more than half of his chest was no more. Blood and guts spewed out as his body flew backwards and slammed into a wall on the right with a sickening squelch.

Looking at the situation dazedly in third person, Hutchinson heard himself scream "FALL BACK!" as the rest of the squad about-faced and sprinted off. He saw Williams, the latest recruit, next to him, his E-3 slung backwards under his shoulder and his finger jammed down on the trigger. He heard Avers behind and to the left, hurdling pieces of rubble while screaming at them to "hurry the fuck up, find some cover and kill some of those son's-of-bitches". Liu was a couple of metres in front, scouting out any other potential Brute ambushes.

A left, a right, sprinting down a street full of shop-fronts. The Brutes rounded the corner behind them, roaring triumphantly. It only made Hutchinson's blood boil, thinking about Ramirez and Barnes.

"Find some goddamn cover. Avers is right. The four of us won't make it out alive if we try. We might as well take out as many of them as we can. I'll try and get Command on the line, tell them our situation and not to expect us back."

"Gotcha!"

"Hey, over there!" whispered Liu into his headset mic.

A barricade stood in the middle of the road. It looked like it had been constructed by some sort of rebel movement against the Brutes. Basically just four pieces of concrete forming a cube of some sorts, but without the top. Liu had already hauled himself over the top of one of the concrete sides, and was motioning to us frantically to jump in.

Suddenly, he hoisted his E-3 up. Without thinking, we all dived down and rolled, coming to stops behind various pieces of rubble, all just a few metres from the barricade. Liu already had his rifle pumped, warmed up and ready, and was busy spraying fire off into the darkness behind us. A few spikes and a grenade sped out, flying wide, the grenade detonating into the ground a few hundred metres behind us. Scrambling up as Liu covered us, we jumped over the barricade and crouched down behind the concrete. As soon as Liu ceased firing, five grenades slipped out of the darkness, flying overhead the barricade.

Wordlessly, we all snapped up and fired. Red bolts shot into the darkness. A howl sounded, and, from the very same darkness, came forth a charging, and obviously very angry, Brute. In it's hands was a Gravity Hammer.

"Aww, shit!" cried Williams. "Take that asshole down!"

Hutchinson pointed his rifle in the general direction of the beast and depressed the trigger. The gun purred as smooth red bolts of energy spat out of the nozzle and slammed into the Brute. As the rest of the squad poured fire into it, it's shields flickered and failed, and the next set of bolts to hit it burned into it's flesh. With a colossal roar, it fell backwards onto the ground, twitching.

"Oh, fuuuuuck. I think he just called his friends," gulped Liu in mock dread, pointing in the general direction of the dark. "Here comes the Gorilla Cavalry."

The four-man team could hear the rest of the Brutes by now. They were running, and roaring out. They wanted revenge. They wanted to kill all the remaining members of Fire Team Alpha. And they were going to bring a whole armada upon them. Alpha was a tough unit, but, with two men down, only the Lord knew how long they were going to last.

"Okay!" Hutchinson yelled, catching everyone's attention. "Everyone take a side. Give a yell if you need backup. Kill as many as you can, if not for the slim chance of survival, then for Ramirez and Barnes."

"HOO-RAH!" the rest of the team shouted, turning to face their respective sides.

Inside his helmet, Hutchinson was busy fiddling with his communications command nerual interface, trying to find a hole in the Brutes' radic coverage to try to get through to Command, when Avers yelled "Contact!" and started firing his rifle in three-round bursts. Roars issued from the darkness, but whenever a Brute ran forward, Avers would always just pump two bursts into it's stomach and it'd fall.

"I've got 'em too!" called Williams, firing single bolts precisely into the darkness. The sounds of bodies falling showed his field of expertise in marksmanship.

"Haha!" Liu laughed, unslinging a large, Great Schism-era LAAG from his back, custom-loaded with his own hollow-point ammo with ball-bearings inside. Unspooling the ammo reel and dropping the ammo box at the base of the concrete wall, he pointed the triple-holed barrel towards a Brute Chieftain who was just emerging from the shadows, and smiled.

"Kill the vile humans!" roared the Chieftain, pointing his Gravity Hammer at Liu and charging.

Liu smiled even wider, and shouted: "Hello. Goodbye!" and depressed the LAAG's trigger.

The barrel spun, and all of a sudden, a river of bullets flowed from the triple barrel. The Chieftain's shields died after the third second, his run at Liu stopped by the massive backwards force the bullets had on his armor. After that, he was a goner. The hollow-points thudded into his flesh and exploded, spraying half-melted ball-bearings everywhere. The Chieftain was transformed into a half-red, half-brown mush, leaking blood and guts.

His job done for the moment, Liu turned around and sprayed Hutchinson's side with a wall of bullets, obliterating two whole Brute Packs and turning all but two of a third pack into red paste.

And so it went on. While Hutchinson fiddled with his communications interface, occasionally popping up and spraying some fire, Liu's massive LAAG roared on. By this time, Williams had added Avers' E-3 to his arsenal, and was busy burning the hides off of Brutes. Avers had switched out to a Fuel Rod Cannon, with his own custom Flamethrower in reserve in case the bastards got too close.

All of a sudden, as Hutchinson got the comms working, Liu screamed "Brute Packs coming upon the flanks!"

Hutchinson clambered up, hoisting his E-3.

"MOW 'EM DOWN!" he yelled, toting his rifle by his waist and letting loose a stream of projectiles. Accuracy didn't matter in this field anymore; there were too many enemies.

"There's... too many of them!" Williams shouted, switching his twin E-3's out to full auto and letting loose upon the throng of Brutes in front of him.

"Watch your left!" Avers yelled, pointing to Williams' left. A Chieftain towered over him, Dual Brute Maulers pointed at his head.

Williams swung his E-3's around to face the Chieftain, and yelled out "Come get it, you big over grown Gorilla-"

The Chieftain's Maulers went off, and the ground was sprayed with the remains of Williams' head. With a side of the barricade now compromised, the Brutes now surged around to try and break through.

"Oh shit! They got Williams!Cut that fucker down!" yelled Avers, hoisting his Fuel Rod Cannon and spraying immediate vicinity. Throwing his Cannon into the nearest Brute, he threw it so hard it smashed clean through the Brute's head and bludgeoned into the one behind it, knocking a few of them down. That gave him enough time to swing around the flamethrower, and, flicking off the safety, he depressed the nozzle button. A wall of fire sprayed onto the Brutes, and they roared and started rolling on the ground, swatting at the fire.

"Fire in the hall!" yelled Liu, priming a Cluster Grenade and lobbing it high into the air. As it flew back down, it separated into ten smaller circles, which fell into the throng and detonated, throwing Brutes everywhere. Brutes which were very quickly replaced.

"Sir, there's something over there!" yelled Avers, pointing into the darkness.

Hutchinson squinted his eyes, peering into the darkness. He could hear something, but he just wasn't sure what it was. He could hear some sort of roaring in the shadows, but all he could see was a vague outline of a gigantic wheel...

And then it all made sense to him. He opened his mouth, eyes wide with horror, and started to scream: "CHOPPE-"...

But the words never made it. He watched as Avers and Liu turned around, eyes wide with horror. A Brute's hand flew out, grabbing Avers on the back and dragging him into the throng, where the crowd surged upon him, a writhing mass of fur and flailing bodies. In desperation, Liu turned his LAAG around, trying to direct it to both save Avers and destroy the Chopper.

The Chopper crashed through the wall of Brutes, roaring right for Hutchinson.

Liu's LAAG gutted the Brute throng, revealing a broken and bleeding Avers, missing his right hand and his left leg, half his face and scalp, and bleeding through a huge hole where his stomach used to be.

The Chopper was so close to Hutchinson that he could see the individual spikes on the huge, spinning wheel.

And all of a sudden, Hutchinson knew that he wasn't going to make it. He started to scream, but it never managed to finish escaping his mouth, for that moment, the huge wheel of a Brute Chopper ran straight into him.

_______

Liu's LAAG sprayed the Chopper just after Hutchinson'd been run over. Liu roared in frustration and anger, but then a huge explosion whipped him backwards, over the barricade walls. The last thing he remembered was slamming through a glass window and into something suprisingly soft...

_______

I crouched in the darkness, my active camouflague working wonders. Jensen and Chung were right behind me, scanning the street. It seemed that this area had been prone to recent conflict. There were burn marks on the ground, lots of spikes embedded in the walls, and even the small craters that signified that a Fuel Rod Cannon had been used in the area recently.

I peered around the side and stared. In the middle of a "+" intersection, about 20 metres away, there was a small barricade. Two of the sides had been run down, and there was a smouldering wreck of a Chopper sitting in the middle of it.

I opened up communications to Sanchez. "'Chez, d'you see that barricade?" I whispered into my mic.

The reply came back in less than a second. "Yeah, I see it. Looks like a recent area of engagement."

"Yep. Okay, let's move in and check it out."

"Copy."

I spun around and opened up a channel to the rest of Team one.

"Okay. We're gonna go check out that barricade there, about 20 metres away. Keep your heads down and your eyes open. It looks like conflict's been here very recently. We don't know if any combatants are still scouting the area or not."

"On your six."

"10-4."

"Old school," I chuckled, before turning around again, and, crouching, creeping off towards the barricade, Chung and Jensen behind me.

_______

"Some serious shit happened here. I mean, really, _really_ serious shit."

Ghost Squadron was gathered around the barricade, peering over the rims of the concrete walls.

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, _reeeeeeeeaaaaally_!"

We stared at the bottom of the barricade. There, covering the ground, was a _sea _of empty bullet casings. Boxes and boxes of used and empty LAAG ammo cases. E-3 energy clips all over the ground. Even a few pre-Ark flamethrower canisters.

"Explains all the blood around here, on the ground. Some dudes really gave the Brutes a pounding here."

Suddenly, something caught Chung's eye. He bent down, and, a second later, snatched up, of all things, a dogtag. It read:

Lt. Comm. A L Hutchinson

USMC MARINES

403rd SPEC.

FIRE TEAM ALPHA

"Holy shit," breathed Jones. "This must've been where Alpha made their last stand." He whistled, looking around. "They did a pretty good job..."

A rustling and a groan emitted from a shop with a blasted-off door and a broken front window to the far right. The whole squad snapped up, their active camouflagues engaging immediately, their rifles flying up to point in the direction of the sound.

"What was that?" whispered Sanchez, eyeing the doorway through the sights of his E-3.

"Be damned if I know," replied Chung, toting his two Plasma Rifles in the direction of the shop.

I opened up a channel to the whole squad. "Team one will scout out the disturbance. Team two, keep an eye out for enemy hostiles and any ambushes."

"Move orders confirmed."

"Getting into position to cover your ass."

We crept forward, gunsights alternating between the rooftop of the building, the doorway and the window, always half-expecting a Brute to come flying out at us.

Another groan, and the tinkling of glass.

"Sounds human," Chung whispered. "Maybe he's a survivor of Alpha!"

"Okay," I replied. "One-at-a-time through the doorway. Keep your guns out and up."

We shuffled through the doorway, barely making a sound. What we saw was a bit of a surprise.

There, lying in the middle of the shop, on a bed, was an asian Marine. An E-3 was slung over his shoulder, and, next to him on the bed, was a massive pre-Ark Warthog LAAG cannon, with an ammo belt still attached. His armor was burnt in a couple of places, and he had a cut above his right eye, but he looked to be alright.

At the sound of us coming through the doorway, he snapped the LAAG up and depressed the trigger without thinking. A whirring sound filled the room, as the triple barrels quickly warmed up to optimal speed.

We all dived in differet directions as a hail of bullets impacted into the doorway behind us, shredding it to pieces. Shouts rang out on the intercom as Team two poured a torrent of laser fire through the doorway and window. Red lights flew over us, illuminating the shop; ironically, filled with beds. Must be a bedstore, I thought. What a lucky place to land.

"CEASE FIRE, SOLDIER!" yelled Jensen, over the sound of laser bolts streaking over us and the roar of the LAAG. The roar instantly stopped, followed by the whirring of the barrels as they slowed down. The laser bolts stopped as well.

"Y-you're marines too?" croaked the soldier, rubbing his eyes.

"ODST 127th Batallion, Echo Platoon, Ghost Squadron, at your service," I said, sliding up from my hading place and saluting the mysterious soldier.

He saluted back, sitting up on the bed. "403rd Specialist Platoon, Fire Team Alpha. Lieutenant James Liu, at your service. Heavy weapons, Demo, CQB."

"C'mon, Lieutenant," I said, motioning for him to come over. "Let's get you outta here."

_______

"So you guys're here after what happened to my Team?" Liu asked, resting on a sofa on the far side of the room.

"After we got your Team leader's transmission, Command deemed it significant enough to order an infiltration and a strike. We were selected to scout out the way. Experts in stealth," I added, to resolve his curious expression.

"Ah. Stealth teams aren't heard of that much these days. After the tech rehaul, you could say we got a lot bolder in tactics. Your kind are few and far apart."

"Well, we're here to do Black Ops jobs. Give their wall a bit of a smash before the bulldozer arrives."

"Got enough space for another member? This LAAG might not be the quietest of weapons, but it does a hell of a job when it comes to killing stuff."

Sanchez spoke up from his bag, searching for something. "I always carry an extra stealth plugin, in case we take on another trooper from a different squad or team. Here," he said, tossing a silver canister to Liu, who slipped it into a compartment on his back. At once, his body shimmered out of view, the ID tag above his head and the barely-visible outline that only trained eyes could see being the only signs that he was still on the far side of the room.

"Nice," he whispered, as the ID tag that displayed on our helmet visors got up and moved to the window.

"So, what're you guys planning first?" his voice was taut, no doubt thinking about his former squadmates.

I spoke up. "We're gonna go scouting. Looking for weak points. Probably do a bit of recon around here as well. We'll see if we can find a foraging source. If not, we did pack supplies for a few weeks. Our squad is composed of two teams; I lead one, and Sanchez over there leads the other. We'll probably have one team out while the other team watches base."

"I'll watch the base for now," he said, disengaging the camouflague and turning around. "I'm not willing to part from this baby just yet," he murmured, patting his LAAG and grinning.

Jones chuckled. "Custom Hollow-point with Ball-bearings? A bit... oh, I don't know, ancient? But not much, just a bit," he said, smiling as he did.

Liu grinned back. "Old faithful," he replied, to which Jones chuckled again.

I snickered. It already seemed like the Leiutenant had been part of the squad for a long time. Checking my timepiece, I decided it was time to go some of that scouting I mentioned beforehand. "Team one!" I called, grabbing my gear and enabling my Active Camo. "Gear up; we're going to town."

_______

"Looks to be a sizeable depot," I whispered, lowering my rifle scope.

"Reckon it could be the HQ? That thing looks like it could hold about a thousand or so troops."

"Nah, I think it's just a supply depot. Staffed by a few, but not housing any in the long term." replied Chung, still scanning the building.

"Where d'you reckon they live?" asked Jensen, scanning the immediate vicinity for scouts.

"Maybe they've taken up residence in some abandoned houses," I murmured, putting the rifle sights to my eye again.

"Well, regardless, this is all we've come across right now. Whaddaya say, Sarge? Do something or not?"

Suddenly, Chung tensed. "Contacts, on the roof. They look like Kig-Yar. The Brutes must've hired them. Carrying Beam Rifles; they're two-man; or rather, two-alien teams. One spotter and one Marksman."

Jensen stopped scanning as well. "I've got a Brute patrol. Two of 'em, but they're Majors. One's carrying a Spiker, the other, a Mauler."

"And it looks like they have two Stalkers behind them as well," Chung muttered, having directed his rifle towards Jensen's pinpointed patrol.

"I can't make out what they're packing," I whispered. "Can you two?"

Two red lights flashed on the bottom left of my visor.

"Damn," I mused. "If we come into contact, we'd be at the disadvantage. Best plan is to avoid the patrol."

"Or," Chung said, "One of us could set up in a building that has a good vantage point and provide sniper cover while the other two infiltrate and destroy."

"We'll see," I whispered. "Any objections, Jensen?"

"Nope. Let's do it!"

"Okay. Just give me a second to inform 'Chez. Sanchez!" I said, opening up a direct channel to his headset.

"Reading you loud and clear, boss."

"We've found a depot. About to engage. We'll infiltrate and then plant a bomb, so if you see, hear or feel an explosion, don't worry, just keep your eyes open for patrols."

"10-4. Liu's LAAG is ready to go."

"Good. Powell, out."

"Sanchez, out!"

"Okay," I said, turning around to the two other members of Ghost Squad, Team one. "Let's move."

_______

A dark, abandoned street. Derelict houses on either side, lining the street. And then, two Brutes pacing around the corner. Behind them, two other Brute-sized silhouettes moved, watching for anything the Majors missed.

I sneaked another look through the window. They were about a quarter of the way down the street, so far unaware of our location.

"Targets in sight," whispered Jensen, from the level above.

"I've got them in range as well," came Chung's reply from the room to the left.

"Okay. What we're going to do is wait for them to go around the corner. Stay down, but if they fire on us, bring down the rain."

"Gun's hot."

The Majors padded forward, seemingly in deep conversation. None of us could understand what they were talking about, but they seemed too immersed to be able to pick up a scent. One of the Stalkers stopped, however, and the Majors stopped as well.

Wordlessly, they stalked over to the house on the right of us, guns up and searching.

"They better not pick up our scent..." breathed Jensen.

"They won't," I replied grimly.

Sure enough, they emerged from the house a minute or so later, muttering and growling again. The Stalkers' outlines were still behind them as they padded around the corner at the end of the street.

"Go, go, go!"

Three _human_-shaped silhouettes slipped from the house to the right of the one the Brutes had searched and flew across the street, entering once more into the darkness, heading for the large, gray, spot-lighted building in the near distance.

_______


	7. Chapter 7: The Storm

"There. On the left; see the door?"

"Gotcha. Moving in."

"Covering your six."

"I'll go around the side."

"Copy. Meet you inside the complex."

A rustle, and the three silhouettes were gone. The only thing they left in their wake was three sets of ODST Armor footprints.

_______

Sanchez jolted up as a large explosion rocked the ground. Running to the window, he saw a huge ball of flame rise from a site a couple of kliks away. He turned back around, looking at the rest of Team two, who were staring back at him.

"That was them, blowing up a depot." he laughed. "Get ready to move bases if the pursuit on Team one's stepped up too high. It's easier to fight them on the run instead of trying to defend this location, despite what we're geared up with." he motioned towards the LAAG and Jones' heavy weaponary, propped against a wall. "We'd be better fighting in the dark, what with our advanced technology, than bunkering down here while the Brutes throw every single heavy weapon they have at us. This building isn't some kind of bunker, it's a civilian house. We'd be slaughtered."

Hodge, whose mouth'd opened up to say something, was cut off by a whooshing noise from outside. Liu soundlessly jumped up and sprinted over to the window, minutely moving aside the curtain to peer out into the dark street below.

"Nothing much," he whispered. "Just a pair of Ghosts. Looks like they're heading for the explosion."

"Phew. I almost shat my pants!"

"Nah, we're good. They're gone. But we'd better get suited up for the storm..."

_______

In the darkness, there was only silence, except for the occasional gust of wind that swung the trees side to side and rustled the leaves on the trees and on the ground.

And then, there was light.

Three seemingly pilot-less ghosts screamed around the corner, blue bolts of plasma flying around them.

"Someone, radio Sanchez! I'm a bit occupied here!" One of the Ghosts spun a full 180, releasing a volley of plasma in the direction they came.

Five more Ghosts, three Choppers and two Prowlers flew around the corner behind the other three Ghosts, in hot pursuit, firing wildly at the three in front.

"At least there aren't more of 'em!"

"MOVE!"

A Chopper boosted down the street, almost running over one of the three fleeing Ghosts. They simultaneously boosted away, increasing the lead between them and their pursuers.

Suddenly, a high-pitched whistling cut through the air.

"BANSHEE!"

A green ball of plasma flew through the air, smashing into the middle of the road and creating a crater. The three Ghosts fired as the Banshee flew overhead, mostly grazing the metal plating, but a lucky shot hit the Brute Pilot in the head. He tumbled out, the Banshee crashing into the ground relatively unscathed.

As two of the Ghosts flew ahead, one of them stopped next to the Banshee. In a second, the Ghost's prepulsion shut off, and the Banshee whined and took off into the air again.

_______

"'Chez," whispered Hodge. "I've got a visual on a vehicle about five kliks out; it looks like a Banshee."

"Gotcha. I'll link up Team one. See whether that Banshee is friendly or not. Chung!" Sanchez said, turning around. "We've got a visual over here; a Banshee, about five kilks outbound in the direction that you guys were headed in. Is it friendly?"

The reply came back in a river of static. "Ye...anshee's....riendly-"

There was a loud explosion in the background, and the communication cut.

"Chung? Chung! Shit!"

Sanchez turned around.

"From the sounds of it; we've got incoming."

_______

Reglar, the Brute Captain of the elite Jiral'ja force stationed at the Supply Depot, roared as his quarrel took another right in front of him. The remenant of the guard stationed there that had not been killed by the explosion were all around him, piloting what vehicles they had been able to find.

They had been chasing their quarrel for quite some time now, and were already in the inner suburbs of this derelict town they'd overrun last week. The turns were more often now, and the heavier Brute vehicles were, by now, falling behind the nimble Ghosts.

Following the Ghosts around the corner, he stopped his Chopper.

In the middle of the road sat the two Ghosts from before, both flipped over to make some sort of barricade. Looking at it, he immediately disengaged his harness and jumped out of the Chopper, landing in a crouch. Around him, his Jiral'ja did the same, and the Spec-Ops Grunts manning the Ghosts hopped out too, toting a variety of Plasma Pistols, Rifles and one even carrying a Fuel Rod Cannon.

Engaging his Camouflague, he crept off, the rest of the haphazard squad doing the same. "Follow the noise of the Banshee," he growled. "We'll find them."

__________

We ran down the street, our Camo already dis-engaged.

"Hurry!" yelled Chung, twisting behind him to check the corner. I could see them in my mind; a murderous group of Jiral'ja, rounding the corner, baying for blood.

"I've got your back!" yelled Jensen. His Banshee flew overhead,circling like an overprotective bird.

A grenade missing my head by centimetres was the first clue that they'd caught up to us. Spinning around, I saw the Brute grin as his Active Camo engaged again and he dissappeared.

Chung's rifle purred, spraying our immediate vicinity with a shower of red laser bolts. A couple of Brutes fell, their armor pulverised and burn marks all over their chests. There was a massive roar, and another Brute appeared in front of Chung as it swung it's Brute Shot at him, hitting him in the chest. He flew a couple of metres back into a wall, but a couple of Plasma bolts and a Fuel Rod smashed into the Brute, erasing him from existence.

I ran over to Chung. "GET UP! QUICK!" I screamed, unslinging my rifle and pointing it one-handed at the end of the street. The recoil was virtually non-existant as I depressed the trigger. Red lights strobed the darkness as the bolts shot off in every direction, some hitting where I wanted them to hit, some missing dismally.

They still advanced, firing as they went. Spikes flashed by, many of them impacting against my shields. An occasional grenade kept me and the dis-oriented Chung down. Firing over our heads the only form of safe retaliation.

A sudden whine.

Before the Jiral'ja could do anything, a ball of green plasma fell from the sky and exploded in the midst of their force. Most of the Brutes escaped, but a couple of unlucky Spec-Ops Grunts were thrown backwards, black armor and grey skin burnt and ruined.

And then, Jensen crashed his Banshee into the ground, crushing a Brute under the nose of the Banshee. He straightened it up, and then preceeded to run over any other Brutes before they disappeared.

"Go!" he yelled over the intercom. Instead, I raised my rifle at a Brute who was directing a Fuel Rod Cannon at the Banshee. With a triple burst, he was down, the Cannon sliding out of his hands.

Chung was up next to me, his rifle purring in his hands too. Between the three of us, the rest of the Jiral'ja force really was no match. Within a minute, they all lay dead on the ground.

A burst of static.

And then, a voice; soft, calm, harmonious, boradcasting to all our helmets.

_______

Commander Selena Ross stood behind the darkened communications panel while the AI Iowa shimmered into existence next to her. His skin a light, gold colour, he leaned on one side, arms crossed. Selena listened while he broadcasted to all UNSC personnel currently on ground.

"All UNSC forces; we have just received a burst of Slipspace data from the Arbiter. His forces are en route to assist; they picked up the Master Chief's beacon not that long before we did, and sent a team to investigate; they were ambushed by the Brute Fleet and they crash-landed on this planet."

"They were flying a CSS-III; a down-graded version of the CSS that is equipped for scouting. It appears that they crashed near that city that we are currently... investigating. There weren't many survivors; they were set upon not long after they crashed, and-"

Suddenly, Iowa's face creased. His colour changed to an ominous, murky yellow.

"I've got an intruder," he murmured. "Someone's trying to block all signals from Fleet to Ground Command."

"Can you lock him out?" said Selena calmly, her eyes flickering to the multiple screens that constantly updated the communications grid. A box on the far left was flashing yellow.

"I'll do my best." The glowing matrices common on every AI's "body" sped faster and faster, but the colour of his "body" did not change from the murky yellow. If anything, it was turning murkier and murkier every minute.

Multiple boxes on the screens started flashing yellow and red. There was a garbled burst of static across the Battlenet, and then units started to wink out on the screen, one-by-one.

"Damn it," Iowa muttered, his "forehead" wrinkled in concentration. By this time, his colour was turning into a dark red.

Selena looked up from the screens. "Initiate lockdown; confirming USNC Marines, officer ID 1057396; manual lockdown on all systems."

The tidal wave of red and yellow flashing lights stopped where they were.

Iowa looked up. "I've gotta find this before we can reboot systems," he said, in an almost pleading way.

"Do what you must, Iowa. Contact me if you need any assistance. I'll try and start doing what I can to repair these systems and bring them back online."

"Copy."

And with a flash, Iowa's holographic representation disappeared.

Commander Ross pulled up a chair and touched the first screen to her right.

_______

"All UNSC forces; we have just received a burst of Slipspace data from the Arbiter. His forces are en route to assist; they picked up the Master Chief's beacon not that long before we did, and sent a team to investigate; they were ambushed by the Brute Fleet and they crash-landed on this planet."

"They were flying a CSS-III; a down-graded version of the CSS that is equipped for scouting. It appears that they crashed near that city that we are currently... investigating. There weren't many survivors; they were set upon not long after they crashed, and-"

The link suddenly broke off, replaced by static.

"Fleet Command? Fleet Command, this is Sergeant Kurt Powell, 207th ODST Batallion. Do you read me, Fleet Command?"

Static was the only reply Command gave.

I tried Ground Command. "Ground Command, this is Sergeant Kurt Powell, 207th ODST Batallion. Do you read, over?"

Still no reply.

I sighed in frustration.

"Pete, it's Kurt, do you read me?"

No reply. By this time, I was starting to get worried.

"Sanchez, do you read me, over?"

"Reading you loud and clear, Boss."

I tuned into one of my fellow comrades, Dan Lonnigan, an Australian in command of Delta Team, an elite sniper team that was currently deployed in another location.

"Dan, It's Kurt, do you read me, over?"

Static again, but this time in an organised fashion; two bursts; an affirmative.

"If you can get me to a computer terminal, I can get a link up to any unit you want," groaned Chung, while grimacing. "Shit, that Brute hit me hard," he said, pressing his fingers into his temple.

A flicker of movement at the end of the street. A green blip on the radar. Not blue, not red.

"I've got it too, boss," murmured Chung, his helmet back on his head.

And then, more of them. They came from the sides, converging on our three-man team incredibly quickly.

"What do we do, boss?" asked Jensen, circling his purple Banshee overhead.

And then one of the green dots moved out from the pack. I could see it's silhouette as it moved forward, into the light of the moon orbiting this planet.

The silhouette shimmered, replaced by an eight-foot tall, hooved alien covered in white armor.

It was the Elites.

_______

-FLASHBACK-

"Contact. On your left, 500 metres out."

"Target located, marking."

"Fire when ready."

CRACK!

The bullet shot through the tangle of tropical trees and neatly carved a hole through a Brute's head.

"Target down, headshot!"

"Sir, I'm picking up an unidentified transmission. Intercepting."

A black-armored soldier with a custom anti-flash visor turned around. "Play it when ready, Lieutenant."

Alien warbles came across the radio, accompanied by the distinctive ping of Plasma Rifles and the hissing of Energy Swords.

"I think it's a contingent of Elites, sir. It sounds like they're in trouble!"

"How far are they?"

"Around... two kliks north, in some kind of quarry."

"Copy. Command! This is Bravo Team. We've picked up a transmission coming from a quarry north of our position; we have reason to believe that allied Elite forces are pinned down and need assistance. Asking permission to intervene and provide assistance. Do you copy?"

"Copy that, Captain Powell. Move orders are go; you are authorised to provide assistance."

"Roger Command. Requesting aerial backup and extraction on standby."

"Authorised. We have four Phantoms, four Falcon Mk. I's, a 20-seat Hummingbird-class Troop Transport and two teams of Spec Ops Elites on standby for you. Assigning them as callsign: Kilo Flight."

"Acknowledged, Command. Powell, out."

The anti-flash trooper turned around to the rest of the Rapid Assault/Infiltration/Demolition team.

"Move out."

_______

Ah'gat grimaced as another grenade flew by his head, missing him by mere centimetres.

"We're badly outnumbered!" he roared, firing blindly over the boulder again, and clicking his mandibles when he heard a roar and a thud.

"Good shot, Fleet Master!" murmured Sefa, his Carbine crossed against his black Spec Ops armor.

To the left, a red Major Domo roared and sprinted out from cover, only to meet a grenade to the face. There wasn't much left of him after that.

Ah'gat turned around to his Spec Ops troopers, scattered behind various boulders. Behind him, Sefa stuck his head out and let loose a few rounds, knocking off the headpiece of a Chieftain and killing two Brute Minors.

"Alright, brothers. Listen up. We have to move. We can't just stay here and wait out the storm."

"Zet. Take what's left of Squad One and circle around to the left. Come at them from the higher ground there. Use the boulders for cover."

"Jah'el, take what's left of Squad Three and move to the right. Make good use of your stealth equipment. The rest of us will attack when they are distracted. Burn their hides!"

The two Spec Ops majors moved off with their squads, ducking amongst the large rocks and boulders littered around the inside of the quarry.

When Ah'gat saw that they were in position, he turned around. "Brothers," he roared over the fray of battle, "Today we will face death and his dogs in battle. AND WE WILL WIN!"

A roar erupted from around the quarry. The Brutes only laughed, picking up the intensity of their shooting.

Before he could yell out "CHARGE!" with all his might, ten red beams lanced over his head from the bushes at the edge of the cliff behind him, hitting ten Brutes in the head and killing all of them.

And he saw the black-armored soldiers jump from behind Zet and Jah'el's squads and land amongst them, engaging their own active camouflague and gearing up to co-ordinate.

He felt, rather than saw or heard, the twenty pairs of invisible boots thud into the ground behind him. But he heard when one of them tapped into his communications and said; "Bravo Team, at your service. Looks like we're gere to save your asses, Fleet Master."

He paused for a moment, and then, opening his mandibles, he tilted his head to the sky and roared "CHARGE!"

In seconds, the remains of his twenty-something Strike Team had morphed into a combined Assault Team of more than sixty soldiers.

The Brutes were crushed as the Elites and the Humans opened less than five seconds, half of the Jiral'ja force that was sent to kill the Fleet Master was dead, the other half in wild disarray.

The combined Assault Team was about to finish off the rest of the Jiral'ja when, with a crash, four Wraiths, three Prowlers and six Choppers emerged from the dense forest line. They raced towards Ah'gat's location.

Ah'gat was about to scream for everyone to "Fall back!" when the Human in command put his hand on Ah'gat's shoulder. "Kilo Flight," he whispered, "Move in for the kill."

Four Phantoms swung into the quarry, firing on the enemy vehicles with their mounted plamsa turrets. They were accompanied by four of the human "Falcon" gunships, and what looked like a larger version of a "Pelican". The Falcons unloaded their arsenal upon the enemy vehicles as well, all but dicing them up.

It was all over in a matter of seconds. The Falcons turned their attention to the remaining troops while the Phantoms landed, two of them spewing forth more Spec Ops Elites.

Ah'gat sighed with relief. It seemed like an eternity since he had been worried that he and his brothers were going to be killed in this large quarry.

Hr turned around to the Marine in charge, walking up to him and bowing on one knee. "I thank you," he said humbly, his eyes on the ground, "For coming to assist us in a time of need. Without you and your troops, we would have most certainly perished."

The marine extended his hand, pulling Ah'gat up. "It was nothing," he said, unlatching his helmet to reveal onyx-black eyes and an untidy shock of black hair on his head. He looked up at Ah'gat, smiling, his lips twisting so that the smile ended up crooked. "Captain Kurt Powell, UNSC Marines 403rd Spec. ODST detachment,at your service," he said, snapping into a mock salute.

"Spec Ops Minor Commander Ah'gat Vadam, Fleet Master of the Royal 1st Fleet of Sanghelios."

The Marine, Powell, lifted his eyebrows in surprise. "You're related in some way to Thel? The Arbiter?"

"Strange, isn't it?" mused Ah'gat, raising his head and looking up into the blue skies. "To be proud when you are meant to be ashamed." He lowered his head again, looking Kurt in the eye. "Yes, I am. I am his younger brother. I was born before Thel was of fighting age."

"I've served alongside him myself," murmured Kurt, closing his eyes. "He is a fine warrior. I do wonder, however, what would've happened had he not been chosen as the Arbiter."

"Hopefully, still in this position. To think we were living under the lies of the Prophets."

Powell grinned. "We were betting on how long it'd take you guys to find out, and then what you'd do-"

Powell's helmet squawked. He slipped it back on, the helmet hissing as it pressurised.

After half a minute or so, he responded to the person on the other end with an "order recieved" and turned his head towards Ah'gat. "Command wants your Spec Ops team back at base. They'll extract you to the _Pride of Sanghelios._ My team is being directed to a big firefight a few kliks west. Some secret Spartan's caught under fire. Classified, of course," he laughed. "I'll see you around," he said, already a few metres away. "Men; load up the gunships, we're moving out."

Ah'gat watched as the four Human gunships and the transport took off and turned west. "Come, brothers," he said, turning arund wearily. "Let us return to the fleet."

The four green Phantoms took off, heading south.

_______

"Ah'gat? Is that you?" I lowered my E-3, squinting under the light.

"It is me, my friend," the Elite answered, extending a hand to me and hauling me back onto my feet.

"How are you here?"

He clicked his mandibles, extending his jaws in an Elite version of a smile. "Ship Master of the _Ingenious Predator_, the CSS-III that crashed here."

I raised one eyebrow. "Oh, so now you've been demoted to a Ship Master?"

"Correction, 'pitiful human';" said Ah'gat with a snicker, "_self_-demoted. I prefer to be able to fight alongside my trusty warriors. As one of you once said, 'Never give a man an order unless you're prepared to do it yourself', or something like that."

I shook my head. "What're you planning to do out here?"

He looked behind him, seemingly pondering on the question. "Many of my brothers are dead, but my Spec Ops compliment has suffered minimal casualties. I'd say I have around forty-five fully-functional soldiers, including me. The _Ingenious Predator _still had six stealth Phantoms and we have loaded all available weapons into those Phantoms. We only found two functional Ghosts and one Banshee. They are currently located at a large structure approximately three thousand units to the north-west. I only have thirty of my warriors here with me. The rest are back at the base." He turned around again, eyeing me, Chung and the Banshee hovering behind us. "Judging by what I saw about half an hour ago, your team is running Black Ops jobs. You seem to be a bit... outnumbered. Me and my warriors," he swept his arm out to the empty street behind him, "can assist you."

I pondered the situation for a moment, before I opened a connection to the rest of my team and hollered "Ghost Squad! New orders! Let's gear up and move out!"

_______

Commander Ross sat at the communications panel of the _Prometheus_, a KITT-class Communications Carrier. Although it was not the most heavily armed ship in the flotilla, it boasted heavy armor, quite a large hanger, it's own detachment of marines and a highly-advanced communications hub. It was the only ship of it's kind in the fleet, and the Commander was now highly annoyed that the superiors had not managed to score another KITT-class. Because of that, she was trying desperately to sort out the problems with the F-GR (Fleet-Ground Relay). She had gathered from a report Iowa gave a couple of hours ago that a mysterious program had probed the F-GR, and somehow managed to disable it. However, the mysterious program came from a location far into Wild Space, the regions beyond Sangheili and Human control.

"So here I am," she thought, "and I wouldn't be here if those god-damn pencil-dick Politicians had been able to snag another KITT." She looked to the screen to her left, which was currently running a data analysis program.

Suddenly, an anomaly caught her eye. She paused scanning and touch-dragged the now paused scan onto the main screen. "Gotcha," she smiled.

_______

"....-nybody hear me?"

I snapped up, slipping my helmet back on hy head. "Roger, this is Sergeant Kurt Powell of the UNSC ODST, I read you, over."

"Oh, thank god! We've been trying to call someone else for ages!"

A distinct rumble echoed in the background.

"What is it, soldier?"

"Well, we were en route to our destination when all our ships were shot down! I don't know how it happened, but it just happened, and we all crashed, and, and, loads of guys died, and only a few made it out, and the Brutes were upon us in a flash, we could only run, and-"

A yell.

"Soldier!"

"W-w-we stumbled across this little desert area, a-a-and there was this... s-structure in the middle, a-and a crashed P-phantom, and-and-and a deserted Elephant-"

Someone cut through his nervous voice with a bone-chilling scream.

I froze, my eyes affixed forward, wide open.

"OH CHRIST, THEY'RE COMING FOR US!"

The distinct sound of E-3's purring woke me from my stupor. I jumped up, vainly trying to get through to the soldier on the other side. "Calm down, solider!" I yelled. "I need your location if i'm going to be any help to you!"

"I-i-it's okay, that... t-thing's gone... b-but it'll be b-back..."

"Soldier," I yelled, "Location, NOW!"

A squelching in the background.

"u-uhh... t-there was something back a-at that structure... i-it's called... S-Sandtrap..."

Grimacing, I screwed my eyes shut, trying to control my annoyance at the soldier's fear. "That's no help to me, I don't know where "Sandtrap" might be. Is your helmet on you, soldier?"

"Y-y-yes sir."

"Your co-ordinate location is located in the top right-hand corner."

"Oh... u-uh.... it's...-"

A horrible roar, inhuman, erupted from my headset. The soldier on the line screamed, and then the line fell to static.

"Command, come in."

"Sergeant, this is Command. We read you, over."

"Command, I just received this transmission from an unknown location: transmittiing to you now. We have a possible team under fire, repeat: team under fire."

"Copy, Sergeant. Receiving transmission now. We'll send a team to investigate. Anything else?"

"I linked up with the remnants of the _Ingenious Predator_ last week. We are now holed up inside a warehouse in City-17. All of the remaining Sangheili are Spec Ops troopers, and the Ship Master is in command of them. We have united with them and are planning to conduct our missions with their assistance."

"Recieved and understood, Sergeant. We will inform The Arbiter of the current situation of his troops. Is that all?"

"Yes, Command."

"Copy. Command, out."

"Powell, out."

I got up, stretching from all the sore spots sleeping in ODST armor gave you. Slinging my arms around behind my back, I walked up to the three figures around a hollow, pale-blue light. Stepping up next to them, I noticed they were standing around a holo-table that was currently displaying a city. I looked at it, and smiled.

"I assume that's 'our' city?"

Zet, one of Ah'gat's Major's, clicked his mandibles and said "You would assume right, Sergeant. Although, I am curious as to what your clue was."

I pointed at the ruins of a large warehouse. "That, my friend, was my clue. After all, how could a man not recognise his own handiwork?"

Zet extended his mandibles.

I nodded to Chung, who was studying the map. He replied in kind, his eyes flicking instantly back to the map. He had a red laser pointer in his hand, and was currently marking out possible enemy fortifications. So far, he had a large skyscraper, an inner-suburban region and another low, squat warehouse that was located on the other side of the city, near a large port. He looked up again. "These are the only ones I can get, sir, from our limited intel. The Brutes have checkpoints in these twelve locations, and it looks like they're setting up here, here, there, and here, with, most likely, more on the way." Twelve red lines popped up on the map, intersecting various large roads and locations around the three buildings.

I pondered our predicament for a second. It had already been a week, and we had only managed to destroy one supply depot. While it did ease up some of the stress on some surrounding units deployed that were still engaging the Brutes, it simply wasn't enough. I studied the map again, noting the locations of the various installations the Brutes had occupied. By all logic, they must have their HQ set up in the skyscraper, as that would make transmissions easy, and the location would provide a good watch over the city. That, and also the fact that six of the twelve checkpoints were all placed in the blocks surrounding the tower.

I moved on to the warehouse. It was large, and, from the looks of it, was close to a highway that ran a loop around the whole town. Of course! The Brutes were using it as a motorpool, a perfect way to scramble heavy backup to any part of the town. With co-ordination from the skyscraper, it could make hunting down prey particularly easy.

I turned my eyes towards the inner suburban region. It was close enough to the skyscraper for assistance, but also close enough to the motor pool in case the Brutes needed to ship out fast. Must be a barracks. "I guess they have learned something," I said, eyes glinting. A plan was already forming itself in my mind.

_______


	8. Chapter 8: Smash n' Grab

_______

_The world around me was a hazy blur, like a thick fog clouding my vision. However, ever so slowly, the fog around me cleared and showed me my immediate vicinity. I was standing in the middle of a field of tall, swaying green grass. I was on some kind of cliff, for I could see the ruins of a once-magnificent city in front of me, burning high into the sky. I could hear the roaring. The skies above were tinged with yellow, orange, red, blue and deep purple; sunset. I was in shorts and a t-shirt, and I didn't have any of my standard weapons on me. _

_A loud, booming voice reverberated around me. "They came, those son's-a-bitches..." I spun around, and there, in front of me, was a black man wearing the dark green of a UNSC Marine. His armor was tattered and scarred; he had a bandage around his left arm, and there was a burn on the right of his helmet. His face was covered in dirt, and he looked tired and weary. He had an old, and battered, BR55 Battle Rifle slung across his back, an old M-90 attached to one leg, a Pistol attached to his other thigh, a bit of ammo for each weapon, and what appeared to be an old Spartan Laser in his hands. _

"_Hello...?" I asked, but the man didn't seem to be able to hear me. I asked him again, but he just stood there, with his back to me, gazing up at the sky._

_I walked next to him, and followed the line of his eyesight. My eyes opened in shock as red and blue flashed across the sky. Suddenly, like the hammer of God, a blitzkrieg of red lasers erupted from a bunch of small, grey blobs and flew into the purple. And, somehow, the purple exploded. It broke apart, slipping into the planet's gravity well, and six tiny, tiny red-and-gold streaks broke through the haze of purple, following the mass of the destroyed Covenant Cruiser down._

_Our insertion._

_How was I seeing the battle again...? And who was this mysterious man that had been observing planet-side? I tried asking him again, but he still didn't respond, staring at the battle ahead in a trance-like state. As he noticed the six streaking trails, he slipped a UNSC Marine cap onto his head and keyed the mic in his ear._

"_Do any UNSC forces read me? This is Sergeant Avery Johnson, I repeat, this is Sergeant Avery Johnson..."_

_I was about to yell, for that moment, a Brute jumped out of the grass and pounced for him, jaws bared. But he was faster, swinging around his Shotgun and blasting the thing's head off with a massive "BANG"..._

_______

I awoke, with a start. My full battle gear was still on, including my rifle, which was currently sitting in my lap. I was gasping for breath, still half-immersed in the dream world that seemed so real...

Sergeant Avery Johnson. I couldn't believe it.

I'd read all there was to read about him, looked at the pictures of him and the Master Chief side-by-side on the _Cairo_, even seen rare footage of him in battle. And he was one of the best, if not the best. A caring, yet tough, Sergeant who knew what he had to do to get troops motivated out of the deepest pit of darkness and get them fighting-fit and ready for payback again.

He'd run so many missions with the Chief and Pete Stacker.

But he hadn't made it off the Ark. The rampant AI, 343 Guilty Spark, or "Tinkerbell", as Johnson so described him, had shot him point-blank with an Ion Beam. He'd helped the Master Chief put Tink out of commission before he passed away in the hands of the Chief. And then the Chief and Thel had detonated the new Installation 04 and destroyed the Ark.

He shouldn't be alive.

But, something about that... that dream, that vision, reeked of the truth. It practically screamed that he had been there, a dead man walking, watching us fight.

It was a mystery I wasn't going to forget.

_______

I stretched as I emerged from behind the pallet I had bunkered down near. I'd taken a night-time watch that somehow went for twelve hours, as Jensen missed his sign-in time, and when Chung had found me, practically asleep, he'd sent me down to get some rest.

I walked up to Chung, who was, by this time, back at the holo-table. "Take a break, dude!" I said, patting him on the shoulder.

He lowered his head and sighed. "Thanks, man. I'm tired as."

"Nah, _I_ should be thanking _you,_ for taking over Jensen's shift. Which reminds me, I'm going to give him an ass-whupping."

He chuckled, in spite of his current physical state. I quickly scanned the map, and spotted a little elevation to the south-east. I pointed it out to him, but he said he hadn't been anywhere outside the perimeter of the city since we arrived.

"Some of the Elites are scouting the city with their Phantoms, though. Maybe you should ask Zet or Ah'gat, they usually lead the squads."

I nodded, smiled, thanked him and ordered him off to catch some shut-eye. Looking around, I saw various Elites setting up a special jamming device they'd ripped straight out of the _Ingenious Predator_, walking around on patrol, or practising fighting. I saw Hodge sparring with Jah'el, which saw Jah'el using twin Plasma Swords and Hodge wielding a Hayabusa. The battle was pretty evenly-matched, with the advantage of a longer Hayabusa blade offset by the fact Jah'el had lots of experience and had two Plasma Swords. I decided not to interrupt, in case Jah'el got a bit angry with me. Ah'gat was no-where to be seen, nor Zet, so I climbed up a staircase in the corner of the warehouse, climbed up a ladder on the second-level gantry walkways and came out on another walkway that ran around the top of the outside of the warehouse. Engaging my camouflague so I wouldn't be seen by any enemies, I grabbed onto the roof, less than half a metre above my head, and hauled myself up, rolling onto the reinforced titanium roof. Clambering to the highest point, I had a decent view to try and find that little plateau I'd dreamed of.

No luck. I was about to walk back to the edge when I thought I heard a slight, unnatural 'whoooosh' above me. I looked up, and, as I looked up, the top edge of the triangular prism that was the roof slided back, and I fell inside.

My Active Camouflague failed as I clipped the side of a walkway with my left shoulder, and I bit back a swear word as I heard it crack. As I rolled off of it, I grabbed on the walkway with my right hand, rapidly halting my fall and making it feel like i'd just tried to dislocate my shoulder. The armor and the rifle slung across my back added an extra 5-10 kilo's, and I just barely managed to hold on. Gripping on as tight as I could, I locked my suit's right arm part rigid, and groaned as I released my right hand. Fire ran along my right arm, while a puslating, throbbing pain ran throught my left. I swivelled my head to see what had made the roof open.

A green Phantom hovered three feet away from me, thrusters silent as a slight south-east breeze. The side hatch opened and Ah'gat poked his head out and apologised profusely. Of course, he hadn't been able to see me, because I had my Active Camo on, and he hadn't been able to see me, because his ship had it's cloaking activated as well. Within seconds, Jones and Sanchez had appeared above me, and they helped haul me up onto the gantry.

_______

"Fractured shoulder, my fragile friend, nothing more. Shouldn't keep you out for too long."

"Guess the new armor really does it's job."

"Damn, it sure is heavy when you're falling down, though..." I grunted through my teeth, fighting against the pulsating pain. Zet had me lying on the floor while he was examining my shoulder. Sanchez was standing behind him, watching as Zet's long fingers probed my shoulder for any other wounds. When Zet finished, Sanchez leaned in and wrapped my left shoulder up tight, and then slapped a patch onto my shoulder. "This'll keep that shoulder nice and pain-free," he said, making sure it was stuck on tight. Already, I could feel the pain dimming away, the pulses getting weaker and weaker and fading my shoulder into a void of nothingness. Must be using anasthetic. The numbness spread, moving slowly into my chest. I closed my eyes weakly, this time trying to resist the darkness that was creeping at the edges of my vision.

But it was no use. As I slipped out of conciousness, someone put a hand on my shoulder and said "Sleep tight, Sarge."

_______

Commander Ross tiredly stumbled into the Communications room of the _Prometheus_. It was now her third day at work, and she had not made much progress. While most small-wave communications had been restored, the larger networks were still down. She hadn't caught much sleep, having spent most of her rest time working on the communications net.

She slipped into her seat, sighing as she pulled up the communications net again. Another screen, full of red and yellow christmas lights. She had encountered little success, and still had no solution, or any answer as to who, or what, had wrecked the UNSC communications net to this extent. Iowa was skulking around the network, trying as hard as she could to find any trace of anything.

But, no luck. All she had been able to do was patch up the system to be able to repel the attack if it happened again.

Suddenly, Iowa popped up again. "May I suggest something?"

Ross nodded, not bothering to look up from the screen. "What?"

"One of the core reactors has completely fried dead. The others only overloaded, and are cooling, but this one's completely gone. That's why so much of the net is down. It's because we've been routing power from the destroyer. I think... I think this was an EMP attack."

This garnered Ross' attention, and she spun around.

"But... that's impossible. The Brutes are no more than Tier one on the Forerunner Technological Advancement Scale. Not even the Elites have that kind of technology..."

"Exactly. Which means that we have finally met another alien race, possibly equal to the Elites in knowledge. And it doesn't look like they're friendly..."

Commander Ross stared at Iowa in horror.

_______

I stood facing the open side-hatch of the now-descending Phantom Dropship. As soon as I was back awake, I had found Ah'gat and explained my dream to him, and then persuaded him to lend me a dropship. He did more than that, bringing himself and a couple of Spec Ops Elites along with him. After taking off and flying around the city a couple of times, I was able to spot the little plateau of waving grass that I'd dreamt of. I pointed it out to the pilot, Zeras, and he put us on an immediate course. There were no seats in a Phantom, so I had nothing to do except prepare for landing. I ran my hands over my weapons, making sure they were all in place and secure, and their respetive ammunition cartridges were where they were meant to be. I checked whether my armor was sealed or not, and made sure the new jetpack Sanchez and Chung had designed out of scrap metal and the Banshee hover pods was attached firmly to the socket they had welded onto my back armor plate. The pod was incredibly light-weight, but, after seeing what it could do in a demonstration by Chung, the two had figured out that if they could get their hands on enough materials, they could make enough for every one of our quite-large team, Elites included. They had outfitted me specially for this, using the first stable one they'd made.

"Deployment minus 20, human," came the distinct growl of Zeras over the intercom. Whatever Zeras said came out with a growl, always. No-one knew why.

I stepped forward, now on the edge of the gunship. The ruined city lay behind us, great carcass still smoking. Obviously, there were still fires burning freshly within the city.

But there was no time to think about that now. With a whoop, I leaned out of the gunship and fell. With my arms and legs spread out, I looked to my right, watching the gunship turn away and proceed towards a landing zone we'd found not too far away.

My new jetpack was linked to my brain via my neural implants, so when I was close to the ground, it activated, slowing me down to a hover. Scanning the ground with my good old heat-vision, I was unsuprised to find no other significant heat signals nearby. However, on the ground, there was a tiny orange-red dot. Skulking over, I kneeled, zooming in on it.

It was a cigar, still-smoking. What was left of the label read "Sweet Willi-"

There was a faint rustle to the far right, and I thought I saw a figure, wearing the drab olive green of a UNSC Marine outfit, slip behind a tree. Racking the old M-95 CQWS in my hands, I slid the iron sights into my field of vision and walked calmly forward.

"Staff Sergeant Johnson!" I yelled, as soon as I'd reached the treeline.

There was a rustle, and a man, dressed in burnt and scarred body armor and wearing a darkened helmet appeared, slipping from around behind a tree. Despite the conditions his armor was in, his face was still full of energy. However, the most prominent detail of him was the massive, bulky mass of the Spartan Laser pointed at me.

I lowered my shotgun at once, slung it around my back, and held one hand up while I unclipped my headset. With a hiss, it clicked off.

I could see him scrutinizing me. "Who're you?" he asked, moving his eyes down to my armor.

"Sergeant Kurt Powell, UNSC Marines, ODST 127th Batallion, Echo Platoon, Ghost Squad. It's truly a pleasure to see you alive, sir."

He kept the laser trained on me, although I definitiely saw some relief in his eyes when I disconnected my helmet. His eyes dropped away, and he snorted. "I'll bet it is! Stupid Tinkerbell, it'll take more than a light bulb to kill me... But that's not the point. The point is, what're YOU doing here? And where in blazes am I, anyway?" His eyes narrowed again, and he hefted the laser with renewed vigour.

"Sir, in all honesty, I'd tell you if I knew. Although, I _can_ tell you the corps is here on a _**very**_ important mission. You've been out for quite a while now, sir," I said, motioning for him to follow me to the LZ. "It's been, what, three years since 00? Well, with the Elites' technological prowess and our ingenuity, sir, we've had quite an overhaul, and I myself am sure you'll be glad to see and handle some of the latest weapons."

"What about the Chief? Is he still alive? I bet he's still kickin' ass with the Arbiter..."

"I'm sorry to say so, sir, but your efforts on the Ark were in vain. The Arbiter and the Master Chief wade it to the _Dawn_ well enough, but the Ark detonated when only the front half of the _Dawn_ was in the portal, disconnecting the front from the back, and slinging the back half through slipspace to a random location. Chief's been missing for three years. Funnily enough though," I said, turning around to face him, "We're here as a slight detour on a rescue mission. We picked up his trace beacon signal just a few months back, and the UNSC authorised a fully equipped fleet to come and pick him up. The fleet's in orbit now, and we're just going to neutral-"

Suddenly, the tree next to me exploded. With a grunt, I flung myself to the left, while Johnson rolled to the right, behind another larger tree. Five fully-equipped Brute Majors came roaring around a couple of trees a good twenty metres or so away, spikers already up and firing. Behind them, there were more of them coming; Brutes, including two with white-coloured armour, and one with Chieftain armour, and a gaggle of Grunts and Jackals. Unslinging my M-95, I tossed it to him and pulled out my E-3. Clicking the firing mechanism to a "Three-burst burst fire" mode, I pushed the barrel around the corner blindly and depressed the trigger. The heavy spiker fire stopped for an instant, and I sprinted across and slid to Johnson's position. The shotgun was in his hand, and he leaned around the trunk and fired three rapid shots, before puling back.

"What're we gonna do?" he whispered, reloading the M-95.

"Call for some assistance, then lead them to our re-inforcements! Zet, come in!"

"Yes, Sergeant?"

"We're pinned under heavy fire! Requesting assistance and extraction, on the double!"

"Already... about five steps ahead of you, Sergeant."

A green Phantom slid into view, it's Plasma Turrets hosing down the Brute-controlled area. Howls and squeals arose as the plasma seared their fur and burnt their skin. The side loading bay opened, and eight black-armored Elites jumped out, all with dual Plasma Swords. Before they even hit the ground, the air around them was filled with dismembered Brute and the bright waves of Plasma Swords flashing around. Within a minute, all enemies had been dispatched, and I grabbed Johnson and hustled into the Phantom's Grav-lift.

_______

We stepped out into the artificial light of the warehouse to cheers from the marines, and chuckles and the shaking of heads from the Elites. Johnson immediately walked over to the computer terminal, and Chung scooted over and initiated communications with Headquarters. It appeared that the communications problem was somewhat fixed, but there was still a large amount of static.

"HQ, this is Lieutenant Chung, please respond. Over."

"-oger, Lieuten...t. What appear... to b.. problem?"

"Uhh. You're not going to believe me, but we've picked up Sergeant Major Avery Johnson."

"..."

The line cut out for a few seconds while we stared at the panel in confusion. Suddenly, the line returned, this time crystal clear. A calm, clipped voice floated out over the intercom.

"I am Brigadier General Dan Cambridge, overall commander of the UNSC ground forces on this planet. What is it that you have to report, Lieutenant?"

"Sergeant Powell has located one UNSC SSGT. A., repeat; UNSC SSGT. A.; previously marked KIA, over."

"...Son, I don't know what you've been smoking, but this is a WAR ZONE! This is no time for getting wasted or stoned! Hurry your ass up and get back into the battle! We have a Spartan to collect!"

"Sir, all due respect, but this is not a joke. I have with me Staff Sergeant Avery Johnson, and-"

Johnson just sighed, and took the reciever, speaking into it calmly. "Authorisation code 4970-EE58-CH21-32096."

There was silence for a long time over the airwaves. Then, the once-calm-and-clipped, now-shaky voice came over the intercom. "W...welcome back, Sergeant."

_______

The first thing I made sure Johnson did was familiarise with the new weapons systems, particularly the E-3. As soon as Johnson's return had been authenticised by an _extremely _skeptical Brigadier General (the dude was such a prick, I don't even know how Johnson managed to just stand there calmly and only respond when asked to), I nicked him out for a bit of target practise spotting nighttime "Covie" patrols, as Johnson still affectionately deemed them.

Lying on the fifteenth floor of a derelict hotel, we drew beads on various groups of Brutes, Jackals and Grunts, occasionally pelting some of them while I explained to him the new weapons, how they worked, and how the Elites had helped so much in our R&D section. Johnson, I noted, even after three years of being alone out in the wild, was still an extremely proficient shooter.

It was well into the night when we spotted a massive mobilisation of hostile ground vehicles and troops, and at that exact moment, a call came over the radio. It was garbeld, but the contention was crystal clear; "Sarge... enem... b..tes... cam...tta nowher... get ba... now... situati....critical-"

We both stared at the radio for a split second, and then, in the blink of an eye, we were off,

everything already packed up and on our backs.

_______

We hit the street running, heading back towards the warehouse.

"The shit just hit the fan!" I yelled to Johnson, who was sprinting along beside me.

"Thanks for informing me!" he replied, sarcastically.

We rounded another corner, but skidded to a halt almost immediately. At the end of the road stood three Choppers; currently turned away, their Brute pilots conversing. However, as we desperately tried to shrink away while making as little sound as possible, one of them looked over while laughing. There was a second of surprised silence as our eyes connected; then, with a furious roar, the Choppers turned as one and accelerated.

_______

**Long time no update; at least I have some time to be creative now. Makes me feel much better, rather than staying cooped up at home all day.**


	9. Chapter 9: Critical Error, Mission Abort

_______

I scrambled off the road, into territory where the Choppers would not be able to go without great difficulty. "Charlie Foxtrot!" I yelled into the radio reciever. "Base, this is Alpha-02, we've run into trouble, and could be a bit longer! Advise on a large column of troop transports and vehicles headed in your direction!" Johnson ran up behind me. We smashed through a desrted house, emerging in the backyard. Sprinting over to the wooden fence, I braced myself as I hit it full-pelt, smashing through and emerging from the other side slightly dazed. Running down the alley, I heard the roar of the Choppers as one squeezed into the alleyway around 30 metres away. Johnson suddenly stopped, turned around, unslinged the package on his back and hefted it to his shoulder.

"Johnson! What're you...." I stopped, when I saw the red targeting laser fall square on the chopper's forward bulk. He shifted it a bit, and squeezed the trigger.

A warm, humming noise was all that came out.

Then, without warning, a massive read beam of pure energy shot out of the front of the package, and smashed into the Chopper head-on. Without warning, it combusted, the brute flying off over our heads, screaming. The rest of the molten carcass slid to a halt.

A voice came clear over the radio. "Alpha-Oh-Two, This is Jensen. Prep for quick evac! We're moving, now!"

A Phantom and a Falcon flew overhead.

"Alpha-Oh-Two, this is Falcon Gunship Victor-25. We're moving out to a suitable LZ about 1 kilometre away; we don't have much time, the other units are already on the way out towards another battle group. I've got incoming hostiles, and a lot of them. We'll hold out at the LZ until you get there. Hurry!"

A nav point popped up on our HUD's. "Ready, sir," I said to Johnson, who nodded and gave me a thumbs up, hefting his E-3.

"Sergeant, I hereby hand all tactical command to you. Lead the way."

With an acknowledging nod, I set off, Johnson right behind me.

Stepping out of the alleyway without looking was a rash decision. As I made to step out, I realised the misdescision, and stopped, colliding with Johnson. However, it saved my life, as a Beam Rifle blast shot past my head.

"Holy SHIT!" I yelled, as Johnson flinched and unceremoniously grabbed my combat harness, dragging me back. Slinging his rifle up, he shot at the sniper, and was rewarded with a yell, as a bolt punctured the Jackal's torso, dropping him. Scrambling up, I grabbed my own Rifle and started firing off at the Brutes emerging from the end of the street.

"Johnson, Leapfrogging maneuver!"

"On it!"

He sprinted off to my left while I flicked the firing switch to full auto and let loose. The Brutes ducked back around the corner, but not before one got off a shot at Johnson, who was forced to dive onto the ground.

Click. Click. "Aww, shit!"

Grabbing another clip, I gave a yell of "Reloading!", ejected the empty energy clip and immediately slung another one in. Leading with the rifle around the corner, I saw a bunch of the hairy bastards moving towards Johnson, who was prone, and crawling towards a large verandah on a house, firing his E-3 one-handed in desperation.

"Shit. Victor-25! We have a situation! We're pinned down, requiring immediate EVAC now! There's no chance to get over to the LZ, you're gonna have to come pick us up! We're located just opposite of the alleyway we were in before!"

"Roger, Alpha-Oh-Two. We're on our way. ETA one and a half minutes."

"Roger that!"

Bringing my rifle up, sprinted out from cover, firing from the hip. A spray of bolts stopped the Brutes in their tracks, while I grabbed Johnson and dragged him over to the house. "Bunker up, EVAC'll be here in one!"I yelled, rifle still at my hip. Johnson staggered up, and grabbed his ancient MA5C ICWS Assault Rifle, laying down a field of fire at the Brutes.

Suddenly, another transmission came through. The signal was weak, like it was being transmitted from space.

"To all UNSC Ground Forces, this is Admiral Fulham. I'm sorry to inform you of this, but a large Brute fleet has emerged from Slipspace. They are currently trying to land reinforcements, and have engaged us in ship-to-ship combat. However, with the amout of troops that they bring, we cannot afford to fight them on a space-combat and a land-combat level at the same time. Therefore, we're withdrawing all UNSC Ground Forces immediately. Make your way to the nearest spaceworthy ship and return to the Fleet. Over and out."

"Shit! Did you hear that?" I yelled to Johnson, who responded with a grunt and a grenade at the Brutes.

Suddenly, roaring hunk of metal descended from the sky, miniguns on and firing. The Brutes around us were blown to oblivion, any left firing back upon the Falcon gunship sitting in the sky. Johnson promptly put a sea of bullets into their backsides, downing them quite efficiently.

A purple beam erupted from the sky, and a Phantom appeared a second later. A bunch of Elites fell out, and they set up some deployable cover, Plasma Rifles up and covering our retreat.

"Go, go, go!" I screamed at Johnson, shooting at a further five brutes who came around the corner at the end of the street. My shots were promptly cut off by the maniacal roar of the Falcon's miniguns, as the Brutes were made to dance as bullets impacted their body at the rate of 60,000RPM. He jumped up, sprinting to the open troop bay of the now one-metre-above-the-ground Falcon.

"Go!" roared one of the Elites, simultaneously blasting a Brute in the face with both Plasma Rifles. I nodded, jumping up as well, and sprinting over to the Falcon. Diving into the hold, I gave a thumbs-up to the ODST manning the Troop Bay door switch, and, with a nod, he flicked it. The door slid smoothly shut, and the whole gunship lurched as the pilot activated the thrusters. The troop hold shuddered as the gunship accelerated, heading for what seemed like a straight-to-space trajectory. Clambouring up, although with much difficulty, I slid into one of the thinly-padded seats, and buckled up. Johnson, with great difficulty, moved up to the spare gunner's seat to converse with the pilot.

The other ODST removed his helmet to reveal a... her. She offered her hand, her face gleaming in the half-light of the troop bay.

_______

**And there you have it. Another chapter; the ending might not be very dramatic or anything, but at least it leaves the reader with a bit of curiosity as to what happens between Kurt and the lady... heh.**

**Review, please, and leave your ideas, they'd help out a lot.**

**Later!**

**¬«Þ³ªÑûtz¿**


	10. Chapter 10: Maelstrom

_______

"Corporal Katrina Haverson, at your command, sir."

I nodded behind my helmet. "Thanks for the quick save, Corporal."

"Anytime," she replied, sliding her helmet back on.

"So, where're we going?" I asked, grabbing onto a handhold as the gradient of the Falcon's flight increased.

"Back into space to the fleet, sir. The Brutes dropped out about... an hour ago? We've been holding them off, but more re-inforcements have been dropping out, and it's starting to show on the fleet. The general plan is-"

A sudden whine cut off the Corporal, as the Falcon rolled quickly.

"Hang on," yelled the pilot over the intercom. "Incoming flight of Seraphs!"

The craft shook a bit as the pilot pushed it to it's limits, juking between the plasma blasts of the Brute Seraphs. "FUCK!" he yelled, as a plasma bolt slammed into the side of the Falcon, twisting the joystick wildly with his left hand as he vainly pressed a screen with his right. Turning around for a split second, he yelled "Sorry, but I'm going to need you on the weapons! I can't get the defensive weaponry AI online; it must've been damaged by the plasma!"

I jumped up, pushing up against gravity and sliding into one of the gunner seats with consoles in front of them. Grabbing the controls, I noted it was a simple joystick with a trigger, while the screen had an array of different buttons and switches underneath it. Flicking "MANUAL CONTROL", I grabbed the joystick and maneuvered it to the left. The camera, mounted on the chain-coilgun outside, turned left, meaning the interface was connected and it was working.

There were red-rimmed squares signalling where the enemy Seraphs were, so I trained in on one that sped past to the left and lit it up with 25mm DU rounds. The flimsy craft shattered, peppered with litle black holes, and dropped down to the planet below like a stone.

Three of them sped overhead, and I watched as a missile shot out of the fuselage of the Falcon and impacted against the center one, showering the other two with debris. One of the two wingers peeled off, flames trailing from a debris impact. The other one span an abrupt 180 and opened up with its plasma cannons again. The pilot mashed his joystick left, throwing the Falcon into another roll. Grappling with my joystick, I depressed the trigger again, but another dodging maneuver to the right made me lose control, chaingun spewing ammo everywhere, as more plasma blasts rocked the Falcon.

There were still five of the old teardrop-shaped starfighters left of the original ten, and, following the success of the one that just strafed us, they grouped together and started blasting us.

"HOLD ON TIGHT!" yelled the pilot as he swung the Falcon 180 degrees on it's thrusters. Activating the wing-mounted .50 cal guns, he managed to take two of them out before they knew what hit them. Just as the other three fired their first shots, they were spontaneously blown out of the air, one of the Brute pilots actually flying out of the front of its figher and missing our Falcon by centimetres.

"...What in the hell's name was that?"

And, right on cue, a Green Phantom slid out of the clouds...

_______

"Human pilot, let us retreat back to the fleet! There we can combat the Brutes effectively!"

"Roger! I have some high-priority personnel aboard, so I'm going to double time! Can you make your own way there?"

"Affirmative," the Elite pilot growled. "We have more than adequate protection." At this, the three mounted plasma turrets waggled left and right.

"Victor-25, out."

The Elites' reply was cut out by the blasting of the Falcon's Fuel-Air Explosive engines giving it all they had, and the Falcon shot ahead, heading out of the atmosphere...

_______

It was back into space, and back into the maelstorm, as far as I was concerned, remembering our hasty entry. Fighters of Humans, Brutes and Elites spun around and around, blasting at each other endlessly.

Our Falcon dodged and weaved the best it could through the mess, heading for the ship we deployed off; the _Nautilus_. I stayed on the guns, as did Corporal Haverson, blasting any Brutes that payed too much attention to us, and helping out the occasional Elite or Human pilot in trouble.

Here, a Brute Seraph exploded, tailled by three _Manta_-class interceptors. There, two ancient Longswords exploded, pinned down by at least three doezen purple Seraphs. A Brute CSS-Battlecruiser exploded right in front of us, sandwiched by two _Galaxia_-class Destroyers.

"Whoo!" yelled the pilot, sending us full-throttle straight through the massive fireball. In an instand we could feel the searing heat, but the Falcon's armor protected us, coming out the other side with quite a few burn marks on it's armor.

And there it was, the _Nautilus_. The very first, and, currently, the only ship out of the brand new _Nautilus_-class Interceptor-Destroyer; a fast, speedy yet heavily armed and armoured Dreadnought. It was sharp and angular, like an arrowhead, albeit bristling with gun turrets, with a massive stern-mounted Fusion Reactor engine, and a never-yet seen before Electron Beam Cannon mounted on the bow.

All of a sudden, another goddamn flight of Seraphs blasted out of the hull of the Brute Cruiser behind us and zoomed towards us, firing wildly. I returned with a brief burst of DU fire, but after a couple of seconds, a red message popped up on the screen signifying me that my turret had run out of ammo.

"I'm empty!" I yelled up front, turning to face the pilot, ripping off my headset.

"Shit, me too!" replied Haverson, twisting around and ripping off her own headset.

"Just hang on! _Nautilus_, this is Falcon Victor-25, requesting permission to land! I've got bad guys on my six, and my guns are all empty!"

The reply came over the ship intercom. "Roger that, Victor-25. Landing bay Delta-Five is available. Deploying countermeasures against enemy starfighters."

The pilot gulped, turning back to face us for a split-second. "This is gonna be rough! Hang on!"

We slid out of the gunners seats and maneouvered back into the passenger's seats, buckling up tightly.

_______

On the hull of the _Nautilus_, a hundred little holes opened up, each not wider than fifty centimetres. With a massive, deep _ROARRRRRR_, a swarm of missiles shoomed out, heading for the Falcon at a phenomenal speed.

______

"Falcon Victor-25, evade in 10...9...8..."

"Strap yourselves in!" the Pilot yelled again, flicking more switches on his control board.

"6....5....4...3....2...1-"

And, at that exact moment, the Falcon pulled up and spun into a barrel roll, while a myriad of AA missiles shot past, exploding into the swarm of Seraphs. Shrapnel flew everywhere, impacting against the hull of the Falcon, making it shake and groan.

But the pilot wasn't fazed, merely gripping the controls and bringing the Falcon back under control. "Uh, Fire Control? Did you really have to go so overboard with the countermeasures?"

"Of course, Flight Lieutenant. We can't have any sort of damage to a Destroyer this pristine, can we?" The pilot snorted.

"Hanger bay D-5 is activating tractor beam, it'll bring you inside the hanger. Fire Control, out."

_______

As soon as we landed on the deck, the great ship rolled, bringing itself parallel to another CSS-class cruiser. Looking out the viewport, lasers and solid munitions flew from the hull of the _Nautilus_ and impacted against the hull of the CSS. Massive holes appeared on the hull, and a large explosion ripped a whole portion of the ship off. Brutes by their tens and hundreds were sucked into the cold vacumn of space.

An anomaly appeared in the fabric of space, a large, black, ominous hole forming. The stars around warped, stratching out.

Out of that hole emerged a gigantic, purple-coloured blob. At least eight kilometres in length, its shields charged up straight away, twelve plasma torpedoes immediately erupting out of it and striking a hapless human frigate group.

"Battle Group Solace! Do you read me? Fleet Admiral, we have incoming hostiles!"

Around the single purple blob, more ruptures in space opened, and a multitude of Assault Carriers and Reverence-class cruisers, and even a few Supercarriers, appeared. Beams of red and blue flew through space as the rest of the UNSC fleet fired upon the Brute fleet. A few Brute ships whose shields had not been up yet exploded, and their carcasses fell towards the planet.

The fleet-com was a cacophony of curses and exclamations.

"Whoa, _shit!_"

"What the hell _is_ that thing?"

"-Form up! Pelt it with everything we've got!"

A couple of SuperMAC rounds flew into the blob, but were deflected off. "Christ, the thing is strong!"

"All ships, this is Fleet Admiral Fulham! Enact a full withdrawal from combat zone on the double!"

Another voice came on over the intercom. "Negative, Admiral! I still have men down there! They're extracting, but we need to hold out until they can get back into space!"

"Alright, Sergeant, but we can only hold on for another fifteen minutes at the max. I read more Brute ships incoming, just out of extended sensor range!"

"Fifteen is all the time we need."

The captain came on over the ship-wide intercom. "Boys and girls, stap yourselves in. Beam Cannon is charging."

A flurry of activity swept across the flight deck, as ships were magnetically bolted to their racks, or attached to the ground. Ground Crews scurried for strap-down seats.

"Let's go!" yelled the pilot, wasting no time in legging it towards an empty row of seating. We scurried behind him.

Sudeenly, we were lifted off our feet as a massive blast shook the ship. Getting back up and looking up, a massive, green beam erupted from the bow of the ship and sliced through a multitude of Brute ships as if they were no more than melted butter, shields and all. The other UNSC ships took up the opportunity, and those damaged ships were promptly sent spinning towards the planet in a hail of fire.

"Sir! The troops on the ground have entered range of the Brute ships!"

"Roger that! Flight deck, deploy Joker Squadron and Sabot Squadron. Hawk Flight, you are cleared to drop all other duties and escort the gunships back to the _Nautilus. _We need our men back on board. Get the Aces out there too!"

Large, slingshot-like launch catapaults appeared out of the deck as a rack of fighters popped out of the wall. Sleek and angular, they looked infintely menacing in the light of the bay.

The first fighter popped into the launch mechanism. What came next was phenomenal.

Without a sound, the fighter shot out of the launch, through the force-field, and into the depths of space. Engines already ignited, it banked to the right, tailing a Seraph.

By this time, via the ten launchers installed on the hanger deck, the first squadron was already out. They formed up and shot off, lasers blasting away.

"Christ," the pilot whispered. "Wish I had one of those for my Falcon. Thing's slow as to start up."

Another rack of fighters emerged from the walls.

"Sergeant Powell, Corporal Haverson; you are required on the bridge immediately. GSgt Stacker wishes to talk to you." A purple-tinged avatar popped up from a projecter near them, displaying a man with medium-length brown hair in a blue MJOLNIR suit. His voice was mellow and pleasant. "Flight Lieutenant Harper, you are dismissed. Gsgt Stacker applauds your good work in getting his men safely back, and has applied to transfer you to ODST 85th Air Wing. He asks whether you would like to join. If you would, please report to his quarters in two hours."

The pilot's eyes lit up. "Tell the Sergeant I'll be there right on the dot." He patted us on our shoulders, and walked back to the Falcon, helmet under his arm.

The AI turned to face us. "The Bridge is in that direction." He pointed towards a large personnel lift that rose up into the ceiling of the enormous hanger bay. "It was a pleasure to meet you both. Now, I must return to my duty of monitoring the ship." The AI winked out.

_______

From the planet below, a string of Falcons, Phantoms and some new Sangheili Revenent-class Gunships flew through the enroaching battle, straight towards the _Nautilus_, dodging Squads of fighters and ships of all kinds, sizes and affiliations.

"Captain, this is Sabot Leader. We have the gunships on wing and are approaching your potision. Joker Squadron is en route, and I read the Hawks as coming up on my six right about now. Aces are actively defending. ETA to the _Nautilus_, approximately five minutes.... Christ! Where'd they come from? Get them off our backs!"

"Flight Lieutenant! What is your situation?"

"We've got enemy bogies on our six! Evade! EVADE!"

"Sabot Lead, this is Joker-Six, We're forming up behind you! Hold steady!"

"Copy!"

"Alright, bogies have been driven off. Get the hell outta here! Captain Keller, ETA two minutes and closing! Prepare Anti-Starfighter defences!"

"Recieved, Joker Lead."

_______

We sprinted through the bay, arriving at the personnel elevator. The light on the side indicated it was still three levels below us.

I jammed the button down, to no avail. "Fuck!"

The corporal motioned. "Maybe we should just wait." A hydraulic noise came from within the shaft in front of us, and I stopped pressing the button. We could see the lift now, but it was slow as hell. It looked like it'd take another solid minLoute or two to-

A blast hit the ship. Loose items flew everywhere, and we flew off our feet, landing on our backsides.

"Omni, damage assessment!" The Captain's voice rang over the intercom.

"Our shields took the brunt of that blast, Captain. It appears that the large ship has some kind of Super Energy Projector. Minordamage to decks E through h.

"Gunners, give it everything we've got!"

Ignoring the lift for the time being, we quickly strode over to the airlock and stared out.

The whole ship shook as every available shipboard weapon was fired at the large blob, including the Beam cannon. However, the blob somehow managed to shrug it off, shields flaring and changing colour from blue to red, but not dissipating. It simply fixed its attention on the pair of _Galaxia_-class Destroyers from before, raking them with twin blasts of the Super Energy Projector. They drifted off, shields all but destroyed, leaking atmosphere and personnel.

"Christ!"

"_Despondant_! Renegade! Do you read, over!"

"_bzzt..._heavily damag..._bzzt_...req...assist..."

"Stacker, have your personnel returned yet? We need to move, now!"

"They're almost back-"

A flaming, half-destroyed Falcon flew through the Airlock merely a couple of metres above ou heads, unceremoniusly smashing onto the deck of the ship. Trailing flames and sparks, it skidded its way across the deck, leaving shallow gouges in the Titanium-A.

"They're back!" someone screamed, and, then next second, a Revenant flew through the airlock, this one managing to land itself at the back of the hanger.

A flotilla of ships entered the airlock, all in various states of damage. Some managed to land, others just careened across the deck.

I ran up to the nearest intercom, and hit "TRANSMIT". "They're back! Let's go!" I screamed.

In an instant, the whole ship lurched again, and I fell again, smashing my head into the deck...

_______


	11. Chapter 11: When the shit hits the fan

"...Sergeant.....wake up...."

I groggily opened my eyes, then, with a yell, immediately slammed them shut again. I was directly underneath a white Neon-phosphorus light.

What the hell?

And then It came flooding back to me. The hasty departure, the arrival on the ship, the Brute reinforcements, the gunships arriving back on the _Nautilus_...

I inched my eyes open again. The light wasn't so bad, just took a while to get used to it.

A silhouette appeared, at the edge of my vision. I couldn't see it's face, for the white light above made it impossible.

"Ah, Sergeant. You're awake, and in good time. You've only been out for about an hour. You'll be pleased to know that you have no nasty injuries. A nasty bump to the head you sustained, I must say, but apart form that, just a couple of scratches and bruises. We had to remove your armour, but it's been cleaned and broken parts have been replaced. It's currently awaiting you in your quarters. It moved around the bed, to the front, imspecting a diagnosis.

"I'm sorry, but we're going to need to keep you in bed for another half hour. There's a bottle of water on the table there, and press the button on the left side of your bed if you require additional assistance."

"Thanks," I croaked. My throat sounded croaky and parched. The silhouette moved away without another sound.

I looked to the side, and swore. "Shit!"

There, lying on the bed, covered in blood-coated bandages, was Jensen. His heart-rate monitor beeped softly.

Christ, I thought. What the hell happened after we left?

_______

The air outside the infirmary was much better than the air within. Even though Informary air was air-conditioned, it was too... clean. Outside, the air was mixed with the smell of sweat, motor oil, and the sounds of shouting, laughing, stomping boots and engines.

The air was filled with life.

I strolled through the corridors, not really having any destination in mind. After slipping through some of the busier corridors, I came across a smaller, emptier one, with only a few personnel moving to and fro.

I spotted a familiar face, and moved to greet him.

"Sergeant Major Johnson, sir!"

"Just Johnson'll do, son." he replied, whipping out a cigar, somehow already lit, and shoving it in his mouth. "What can I do for you?" he said, chewing on the cigar.

"Where exactly did you go after we landed, sir?"

He laughed. "Stacker was callin' for me. Seems like I missed out on quite a bit, huh? It's nice to know that now we're taking the fight to the big ugly bastards."

I grinned, sharing his point of view. "It sure is, although this' more of a resuce mission. We're generally only trying to hold the border right now, and rebuild, then _really_ take the fight to them."

"The Chief, eh?" Johnson puffed. "Well, I guess I'll be the one rescuing _him_ this time..."

I looked at him curiously. "Sir...?"

_______

Johnson cradled Miranda Keyes' lifeless body in his arms, feeling the seven spikes in her back.

A tear rolled down his cheek.

He almost missed the thunk from the end of the hall.

Almost.

He looked up, and his eyes widended.

Flood Combat forms emerged at the far end, and immediately pounced on the Brutes there, grabbing them and jumping off the platform with them.

But, behind them, emerging slowly and silently into the light of the seven Halo rings, a machine, and a monster.

No.

A man, and an Elite.

A hero. _Heroes_.

Johnson closed his eyes.

_______

"Keyes was a good CO. Just like her father..."

"I'm sorry," I said, voice hushed. He smiled, and patted me on the back.

"No big deal, soldier. The Arbiter took care of that filth."

_______

"...I... am Truth! The voice of the Covenant!"

The Arbiter lifted his body up, and pressed the transfigurating Prophets' head against his shoulder.

"And so, you must be silenced."

_-Whzzzzzt-_

_______

"It's a miracle I made it off that goddamn installation in one piece." Johnson puffed on the cigar thoughtfully.

"How exactly did you make it off, sir?"

"Well, it was one hell of a luc..."

He squinted, stopping for a half-second.

The next second, he'd drawn his pistol and fired it _straight_ at me.

_**BANG-BANG-BANG!**_

I ducked.

_WHOOOSH! _A gigantic, serrated blade swung through the air, touching my helmet. Rolling forward, I spun around, drawing my own holstered M9.

A Brute, Brute Shot limp in one hand, stood there, a look of shock on its face. A hole on it's throat gushed blood, pooling on the floor. With a guttral groan, it fell over, thumping into the deck.

Johnson swore. "Fuck."

I slapped a hand onto my helmet, activating intercom. "This is Sergeant Kurt Powell! Alert, alert, Brute boarders detected! They possess stealth equipment! Look to be heavily armed Jiral'ja!"

A voice came back over the line. "Bridge copies, Sergeant. Security detail is being deployed now."

Over the shipwide intercom, an announcement blared: "Warning, all UNSC Personnel and Sangheili Forces currently stationed; enemy boarders have been detected. Security detail, bridge command is re-routing information to you as we speak. Repeat, all personnel, be on the lookout."

A pair of Marines that had been behind us when the shit hit the fan ran up, weapons already drawn. One hefted an E-3, while the other held a relic: an M7S.

"Reporting for duty, Sergeant," they said, directly addressing Johnson.

"At ease, soldiers. I don't know the _Nautilus_ as well as Sergeant Powell here does, so full tactical command goes to him." He motioned towards me, and moved off to the side, examining the corridor for other shimmers of Active Camouflague.

"Alright. You are...?"

"Lance Corporal Laura Welkins, sir."

"Corporal Henry Lowe, at your service."

"Okay." I looked up the corridor. Johnson nodded back. "We need weapons," I said, turning back to the two Marines in front of me. "We're going to hit up the closest Armory, maybe gather some survivors, then run this is as scout party. Ladies and Gentlemen, If you see any enemy, you are weapons free. The interior is Titanium-X Composite; nothing short of an Energy Projector blast will damage it."

"Acknowledged, sir-"

_**BANG...BANGBANGBANG!**_

"I NEED HELP HERE!" Johnson yelled, pistol moving every which way. We sprinted down the corridor to find him in combat with three silhouettes.

The Corporal raised his SMG at a glimmer and let it pelt out. The Brute's shields shimmered and it revealed itself, roaring and brandishing a Mauler.

"SHIT!" He yelled, priming a Plamsa Grenade and throwing it at the Brute's head. It stuck perfectly, the Brute clawing at it before it detonated and took of its head.

One of the others roared, revealing itself as well and throwing down its Mauler. It jumped towards the Corporal with frightening speed, tackling him full-on and knocking him to the floor.

The Lance Corporal brought her E-3 around, but it wasn't fast enough for Lowe, who extended his SMG in one hand and emptied the clip at the Beserker. It roared, and then its body erupted in tattered holes as the SMG tore threw the Brute's body.

The other Brute, knowing it'd lost, roared and turned around, only to meet a faceful of laser bolts. It raised its Mauler and let off a round before its shields failed.

The sound of another Mauler going off and taking off the Brute's head grabbed my attention.

There, behind the falling body of the dead Brute, was Hodge.

He saw me, and his eyes widended. "Sarge! I thought we'd lost you on the surface or something!"

"There's no time!" I responded, my ragtag team of troops following me. Hodge's eyes widened when Johnson stepped out from behind me. "We've got to get to an Armory, get suited up and then kick their asses!"

He turned around, heading off down the corridor. "This way!" He yelled over his shoulder. "There's an Armory about half a klik away. I left it when they came under attack by Brutes. There were only three Marines and a fellow ODST there...."

We sprinted down the corridor, the Marines checking our back. Coming around the corner, I came to an abrupt halt.

There must've been at least ten Brutes, all surrounding an archway entrance in the wall. Lasers and grenades flew out of the arch as we watched, sending a Brute to oblivion. The others roared and one extended a Brute Shot in one massive hand, shooting a couple grenades back through the doorway. A scream emnated from within, followed by yelling. The Brutes shifted around, mobilising to storm the room.

I turned around. "There are nine of them, and they just inflicted casualties on the units within. They've stopped firing, and the Brutes are ready to storm the room."

Hodge attached his Maulers to the magnetic strips on his armor and detached his two Genesis Launchers strapped to his back. Handing one to me, he also passed along an E-3 to me. Johnson grabbed his pistol, but Hodge handed him an E-3 as well.

"Howabout we blow then to high hell and back? That sounds like a good idea to me."

I nodded, crouched and leaned around the corner, the launcher propped on my shoulder. Hodge did the same, standing.

"Fire in the hole." The Brutes turned, eyes widening. One managed to point at us.

_**PSHEOWW-**_

Impact.

_______

Three Brute Shot grenades roared through the doorway, one of them striking Corporal LeRoux square on. It exploded, sending him to the back of the room, out cold and bleeding heavily. Another exploded near Corporal Haverson, sending her flying. Edward Buck ducked, the third grenade shooting over his head.

He sighed. "What a _shit_ day to wake up," he thought. "First, the Brutes pounding us as soon as we get up. Then, more and more reinforcements, and finally, a fucked up landing by a returning assault force."

He popped up, directing his E-3 at the doorway. "C'mon, you bastards..." he murmured, eyes looking through his scope.

_**PsheowwWWWW-**_

Bang.

The corridor outside exploded, filling with smoke.

One of the Brutes from outside flew in, burned and blackened, missing an arm and a leg and part of its midriff.

"What the.."

Out of the smoke came a figure. Tall and menacing, covered in black armour.

An ODST.


	12. Chapter 12: Boarding Action

I stepped into the Armory, examining the surroundings.

There was a Marine, at the back, bleeding heavily. He looked to be out cold.

Behind some makeshift barriers of boxes and upturned tables, another ODST popped his head out.

"Good to see you, son," he said, lowering his rifle. Alongside him, the olive-green of a Marine helmet also appeared, while a groan from the right alerted me to a body lying prone on the floor.

The other members of my makeshift squad filed in behind me, while I walked over to the ODST and extended a hand. "Sergeant Kurt Powell, 127th ODST Batallion."

The other ODST nodded. "Gunnery Sergeant Edward Buck, 31st ODST Specialists. This here is Corporal Kevin Mobuto."

Johnson perked up at that name. "Mobuto...?"

The Marine looked up. "My father was a Staff Sergeant. Marvin Mobuto. Stationed on the Pillar of Autumn. He was at Reach. Died during the Battle of Alpha Halo..."

Buck turned towards me. "The rest of my squad left before the Brutes came into contact. I need to find them then regroup with them."

"Of course, sir," I responded, "But first, me and some of the troopers need to suit and arm up."

"Naturally," he said, sweeping his arm around the Armory. "Take what you need."

_______

"...And those're the finer points of the E-3." I finished, handing the rifle over to Johnson. "If you want to, there's a mini-firing range just in there. Go test the rifle out, get used to the recoil, power, adjustments, etc."

Johnson was standing in a brand-spanking-new ODST armour set, silver faceplate gleaming. "I see they retained VISR," he said. "Good thing, too. We'll need it." He trotted off, in the direction of the range.

I had lost nearly all my weapons during the last few mishaps I'd encountered. I hadn't armed myself since the initial drop, and it was showing. I still had my E-3 Power cartridges, but both of the Plasma Rifles I'd armed myself with when we'd landed on the surface were gone. The Beam Rifle had a deep gouge in it, and, from the looks of it, wouldn't be shooting again. Additionally, one Energy Sword hilt was missing. Thankfully, I still had the Hayabusa, clattering uselessly against my armour whenever I took a step.

"Why don't I just load out on E-3 ammo?" I asked myself, eyeing the stores of weapons. "It's pretty much the weapon to use in any situation..."

But a sense of bravado got the better of me. After seeing Hodge's Genesis work so well, I strapped one of those to my back plate. Might come in handy. Attaching more E-3 clips onto my armour, I grabbed a Spartan Laser, but hesitated. While people such as Hodge might have the strength to carry dual Heavy Weapons, I wasn't so sure whether It'd be a hindrance or not. Shrugging, I re-attached it to the charge socket. Just in case, I grabbed another E-3, switched into Shotgun mode, and attached it onto a leg plate.

Hodge was re-arming himself with all the heavies, the crazy bastard. He'd even managed to pilfer some Spike Grenades from God-knows-where.

Buck had a pair of M7S'. What was with all these people with archaic weapons?

He also had two strange pistols on his waist magnetized strip.

"What model of M6 is that?" I asked, pointing to the jet-black pistols. They looked infinitely menacing, a cross between an M6D and a 21st century Desert Eagle, with a laser sight mounted underneath the barrel.

He glanced at the pistols. "Nice, aren't they? M6/SOCOM varient. Remember the shitty little M6C's that we had during the First Battle of Earth, aboard the Defence Stations? Yeah, well this is a totally revamped edition. Ever wielded an M6D?"

I nodded. "They're quite the pistol to use."

"'Quite'?! They're _the_ pistol you _always_ want to have with you. That thing shot 12.7x40mm M225 SAPHE. On an unshielded target, it was the best thing ever invented. They'd go down one shot, no matter what. This baby," he said, patting a pistol, "fires the same rounds, much better than that damned M6C. However, It incorporates the fire rate of the M6C. As bad as it was, the thing shot like an Audi R-77; fucking fast. Plus, it has the good looks of the M6G." he winked. "Internal supressor reduces shots from 'Loud and bad-ass' to 'Barely distinguishable', and a muzzle brake also helps with accuracy."

I just stared. "Where d'you get one?"

He chuckled. "The guns're pretty special issue. These ones are the semi-prototype versions. Me and my squad were issued with them before the First Battle of Earth, which we participated in. My squad was there when Regret jumped within New Mombasa. That shit was really messed up."

I was about to ask him all about it, but Johnson came up from behind. "D'you really need to get all close to him just now? We've got a job to do, soldier!" he said, deactivating the silver sheen on his faceplate.

Buck smiled. "Don't worry, sir, we'll be on our way soon." He shook his head and chucked. "Avery Johnson. Never thought I'd get to meet you in person. D'you _know_ how much of a legend you were to the Marines back then? Only superseded by the Chief." He extended his hand, which Johnson took and shook.

"No, but maybe after all this chaos is over, you could tell me about it over a good old beer," he suggested, smiling. Suddenly, his reflective tint re-activated. "Now get your asses into gear! We've got a squad to find, Brutes to kill and crewmembers to save!

"What about these two, sir?" Mobuto piped up, standing up next to the two wounded Marines. The one with the superficial bleeding had been patched up, but both were unconscious.

"We'll lock them up within here," Buck said, after thinking about it for a second. "They should be fine."

"Marines!" I said. "Lock and load."

_______

We found them after fifteen minutes of flitting through rooms, corridors, encountering Brute after Brute after Brute. We blasted our way through them all, our team of six weathering the storm, eyes still staring straight and unwavering down our respective sights.

They were holed up in the middle of the corridor, having dragged a couple of concrete barriers around them. Brute bodies surrounded the barricade.

There were four; one in a set of armour that, suprisingly, had a Recon helmet, one in ODST Close Quarters armour, one in ODST Ranged armour, and one in what seemed like ordinary armour.

"That's them!" Buck yelled, blazing down the hall in a rain of laserfire. We moved behind him, in phalanx, guns up and firing.

One of the ODST's turned around for a second. "Sarge!" he said, giving us a thumbs up. Turning around, he promptly shot three Brutes in the head, and disabled another one's shields, it being shredded by one of Buck's SOCOM's.

"Genesis, out!" yelled Hodge, jumping up and shooting two rockets in mid-air. They impacted on the floor near the Brutes, sending them flying through the air.

We piled around their little encampment.

Buck was talking to the squad. They faced him and called off.

"Captain Dare, here and accounted for, Sergeant."

"Dutch, ready to move."

"Romeo, at your service, Sarge."

"Mickey, ready to blow some shit up!"

Buck looked around. "Where's Rookie?"

The one in the red, Dutch, piped up. "Sorry sir, but we lost him along the way in one of the side corridors. Don't worry, kid's tough as nuts."

"Kid survived New Mombasa, right? He should be fine." said the Recon helmet Captain, Dare.

Buck turned around. "Thanks for getting me to my squad, Sergeant. If you don't mind, I'll take them from here. I need to find the missing Lance Corporal; he's relatively new to this ship..."

"No problems," I said. He gave me a nod, and his squad set off. "Godspeed," I whispered.

"Alright," I said, turning back around. "Long range comms is down, so we're going to have to do this the good old way." I bought up a small holographic map on my VISR. "To all units able to hear us, this is Sergeant Kurt Powell. Does anyone read me, over?"

There was a reply from Buck, and a lot of static, until finally, a deep, calm voice came on over the line.

"Roger that, Sergeant. This is Command Sergeant Major Andrew Kowlaski. What is your position?"

"We're located on Deck E, near the mess hall designated 'Zulu-Five'".

"Recieved, Sergeant. I'm running a command post, designated 'Rally Point Alpha', on your level. According to your current position, you shouldn't be too far from this outpost. I'm uploading the waypoint to your VISR now. We've got an organised resistance happening here, and would be glad to incorporate you into our teams. We're having a bit of trouble with the comms, the Brutes have some kind of jamming active, but if you're relatively close, you should be fine."

"Waypoint received, sir. Be there shortly."

"No problems, Sergeant. Kowlaski, out."

I brought up the line to Buck again. "Sir, I've just located an operations outpost on this deck level. Routing the waypoint to you."

Gunfire echoed through my headset. "Copy that, Sergeant! We'll find our missing man first, extract him the meet up with you at that outpo- oh shit, that one has a Grav Hammer! MOV-"

The distinctive whump of a Gravity Hammer sending out a field of altered gravity ended the transmission.

"Ladies and Gentlemen; let's move," I said motioning with my hand. We set off again, travelling through the Brute-infested halls...


	13. Chapter 13: Mazes and Labyrinths

fic"Form up! Delta formation!" I whispered, holding my hand up flat. The rest of my ragged team stopped, trigger fingers tensing.

We were close to the command post, but we'd run into more fierce resistance from the Brutes. They seemed to come from everywhere pouring in from god-knows-where.

Suddenly, another flood of them appeared. I didn't even need to scream "WEAPONS FREE!" for the troops behind me to start firing, and a couple of laser bolts flew down the hall, colliding with the Brutes. However, they fired back, a flurry of spikes and a few grenades, one of them striking the Lance Corporal in the head. She fell backwards, not screaming. She couldn't. Half her face had been taken off by the grenade, and there was a large, gory hole in the middle of her head.

Lowe spun around, thinking he could help her. The Corporal registered the shock of seeing Welkins so disfigured for only a second. The next, a spike emerged where his shoulder socket was. He went down screaming, dropping the SMG and writhing on the ground in pain.

"Shit!" Mobuto screamed, lobbing a whole bandolier of grenades down the hall. They exploded prematurely, a Brute Shot Grenade slamming into them in mid-air. He took that opportunity to grab the injured Corporal and pull him behind cover. A stray red plasma bolt grazed his shoulder, and he grunted, hauling the Corporal the last few metres behind the outcrop, then holding his rifle one-handed and taking potshots at the Brutes. It wasn't much longer before another bolt hit him on his other arm, and he went down, groaning.

"Sarge!" yelled Hodge, over the sound of flying spikes and grenades. He leaned out to take a shot, and clocked a wounded Brute in the head, watching it explode in grim satisfaction. "We're getting taken out!" He barely dodged a spike headed for his forehead, ducking as it impacted into the wall behind him. He pulled out his Genesis launcher, emptying its contents down the hall, then reloading.

"GRENADE!" I screamed at him. He looked up and started to move, diving to the ground, but the Grenade moved in mid-air, exploding next to him, throwing him backwards into the little alcove.

Johnson leaned out now, a Spartan Laser propped on his shoulder. A small red dot appeared on the torso of a Brute Captain, who looked at it in confusion.

The Laser cycled, then the mouth of the weapon slid open, and the whole thing roared, Johnson barely able to control the recoil. A thick red beam of pure energy sliced through the Brute Captain, and Johnson swung the weapon from left to right, disintegrating whole ranks of Brutes. However, from the dark depths of the ship, more came, howling and shooting their weapons.

"Kowlaski, this is Sergeant Powell, Do you read me? Over!" I yelled into my helmet comm.

"I read you, Sergeant. What's happening, soldier?"

"We're pinned down close to your position, only about a hundred metres away! We've got a massive group of Brutes on our asses, and I've got one dead and one injured! Is there any chance you have backup you could send us?"

"Hold on, Sergeant, I'll see what I can do."

"FUCK!" I yelled, poking my head out and letting rip with my E-3, then lobbing a grenade, bouncing it off the opposite wall to land amidst the congregated Brutes. Letting it explode and deplete their shields, I poked my head out and took aim again, only for one of the wall panels right in front of me slide open. Out came an automated turret.

"Whoa!" said Johnson, staring at the thing as it turned to track the Brutes.

Instantly, it spewed forth a rain of red death upon the Brutes, burning their hides and frying their skin. The hallway filled with smoke as one after the other, more autoturrets came out of the walls, shooting at the Brutes. They tried desperately to fire back, but more and more turrets popped out, and the Brutes kept falling. A couple of turrets were taken out of commission by a Grenade or two, but, before long, the Brutes were all dead. The wall panels slid open again, and the turrets retracted.

"How'd they like _them_ apples, Sergeant?"

"Thanks for the save, sir," I responded, lowering my shaking rifle and letting out a long breath. "I thought we'd be attacked by wave after wave of Brutes, and chipped down to the last man."

"No way in hell I'd let that happen to a good team of troopers. I sent a spare squad to regroup with you and get you back here in good shape. They should be arriving in no time."

"Thanks again, sir," I replied. "We'll shore up here and await extraction."

"Recieved, Sergeant. See you in a few. Kowlaski, out."

I stuck my head out again, and raised my rifle, not because we had incoming enemies, but to ward off some of the stress I was feeling, and to try and steady my hands. Johnson patted me on the shoulder. "We've done good, soldier."

Roars of Brutes and gunfire rang through out the halls. I shivered, and gripped my rifle tighter.

_______

More than fifteen minutes later, the sound of thumping on Titanium-A echoed from down the hall. Me and Johnson looked at each other, then sprang up, sliding into the little alcoves in the wall and aiming our weapons.

A friendly Marine squad pounded around the corner, guns up. I sighed, and lowered my rifle, stepping out into their path.

They saw me and loosened up, snapping salutes. One of them stepped forward. "Sergeant Major Grimus, here to extract you, son. My men are Privates Farrell and McClellan, Corporal Nakamura and Specialist Gibbs."

"Sergeant Kurt Powell, UNSC ODST at your service. This here is Sergeant Major Johnson, Corporal Mobuto, Corporal Lowe's the one with the spike for the shoulder socket, the late Lance Corporal Welkins is the one missing her face, and the other ODST is Lance Corporal Hodge."

"Nice to meet you and your men, Sergeant. Now, let's get suited up and move out. Farrell! McClellan! Help the Lance Corporal there pick up that body. Nakamura, support the injured Corporal. We need to get moving! Gibbs, cover our six!"

"Yessir."

With Welkins' limp body on board, we set off, slinking through the blood-stained halls. It took us twenty minutes of painstakingly slow walking, and we encountered Brute packs more than once. We couldn't just leave Welkins' body lying around, as if the Brutes happened upon it, they would most likely eat it. Whenever we ran into the Brutes, he had to drop her body and dive behind cover. Mobuto took the pain well, but Lowe kept screaming whenever he moved too much, and thus it was no use trying to hide from our gorilla-like enemies.

The last encounter we had was the worst. We were trudging along, trying to keep alert, when I saw one of those tell-tale shimmers in front of me. I yelled, and tried to get my hands to my rifle, but suddenly, a massive Brute materialised out of thin air in front of me. Roaring, it swatted me across the helmet, and I slammed into the wall next to me.

The next thing I knew, the Brute was standing above me, raising a crude metal bayonet in it's fist. As It brought it down, I shimmied to the side, then grabbed the Hayabusa and thumbed the ignition. A glowing blade of pure energy extended out of the handle, and I thrust it forward, straight into the body of the Brute, then swiped sideways, the blade coming out of the side of the Brute. It looked at me, perplexed for a second, then collaped.

I stood up, holding the blade vertically in front of me in a defensive fashion. The Brutes stared at me, and one even started to laugh.

Then, they parted to reveal the largest furball I'd ever seen. It must've been at least nine feet tall, the top of his head close to brushing the ceiling. In his hand was a colossal Gravity Hammer. He raised it and pointed it directly at me. "I challenge you, puny human filth, to a duel. Whoever wins walks out of this alive. The other must die."

My brain screamed at me to back down, to pull out my rocket launcher and blow the bastards to hell. But my body had other ideas.

I didn't even remember opening my mouth. "I accept, you big hairy gorilla." Raising the blade in a challenge, I started to circle the Brute Chieftain, and it did the same, bringing its Gravity Hammer to bear.

I made the first move, jumping forward, swinging the Hayabusa from the side. The Chieftain simply raised his Hammer, blocking the blade-

A terrible groaning sound rent the air, and sparks flew as the energy blade crashed into the Hammer. I pushed as hard as I could, but the blade couldn't cut through the Hammer.

Instead, I quickly turned a 360, swinging out the blade in front of me again. The Chieftain dodged, but its shields flashed, and it snarled, raising its Hammer above its head, then slamming it into the floor-

I brought the blade between the Hammer and the ground. Sparks flew again as the blade held its own against the Hammer. I struggled to stop it from crashing into the ground.

The Chieftain roared, and suddenly elbowed me, sending me stumbling. The Katana flailed, and the Hammer head smashed into the ground. A weakened bubble of altered gravity expanded outward, sending me skidding back, struggling to gain some purchase. The Chieftain used the opportunity to leap forward and smash the handle of the Hammer into my side, winding me and slamming me into a wall. I managed to raise the Katana in time to block the next strike, but the Chieftain raised his Hammer again.

I took the chance, leaping in under his arms and swinging the Katana horizontally. This time, his shields fizzed out and a deep gash of cauterized flesh appeared on his midriff. He reared back, roaring. I leaned in again, this time a quick feint at his midriff again that turned into a vicious swipe at the Chieftain's legs. He dodged, but my Katana was dancing now, slicing at his arm.

Another roar erupted from his mouth as I sliced a hand off. He threw his Hammer at me, and I narrowly dodged, ducking as it flew over my head and down the corridor, missing the rest of the men as well.

I looked up, and the Chieftain was standing right in front of me. A paw slammed onto my throat, and he hoisted me up, my hands dropping the Katana and desperately clawing at my throat.

"You lose, human!"

I was just about to headbutt him; I'd inched my head back, when a red dot appeared on the side of his head. The sneering Chieftain hadn't noticed it yet.

"Eat this, bitch!"

_**...wwwwhhhhHHHHUUZZZZZZZZTTTT-**_

The Brute's head vapourised, as did the whole upper half of his body. The legs stood there for a few seconds, spurting blood, before collapsing.

I fell on my ass in a heap, gasping for breath.

With a groan and a final discharge of energy, the beam disappeared, just as two rockets flew past, slamming into the floor and sending bodies everywhere.

Then, an eruption of laserfire and the _phwat-phwat-pwhat_ of an SMG sounded off, and more Brutes collapsed, still in shock at the death of their leader. One of them roared and jumped at me, still lying dazed on the floor, but he was met mid-air by Nakamura and McClellan, who fired their SMG's at the massive Brute.

Momentarily distracted, it turned towards them, snorting and shrugging off the bullets, then stepping towards them and taking a massive swipe at McClellan, who was flung off his feet and into a wall.

Nakamura tossed me an M6D, firing his SMG desperately with one hand.

It flew towards me in slow motion.

Nakamura's clip ran dry. The Brute noticed, stepping up and rearing its head.

I had barely enough concentration to snatch it out of the air, level it at the back of the Brute's head and pull the trigger.

_Schlat!_

The Brute's head popped, burst like a ballon. Its arm had been coming down to hit him, and its body dropped forward, Nakamura barely managing to dive out of the way.

Any Brutes that were still alive dispersed, running back into the shadows.

_______

Grimus ran towards McClellan, gun still up. Farrell and Gibbs flanking him. Nakamura got up, dusting himself off.

The Command Sergeant Major leaned down, checking for a pulse. "He's alive," he muttered, fingers pressed against McClellan's neck, "but it looks like he's out cold." He sighed, standing up. We're going to have to haul him all the way there..."

"Don't worry, it can't be too far... Yeah, my navpoint marker reads only 50 metres away. Should we call for more backup, or...?"

"No, we should be good, although this will hamper our progress..."

"Not with us, it won't."

Six ODST's rounded the corner, weapons drawn. They double-timed it up to us, and stopped. I recognized the strange armour almost immediately. One of them stepped forward, and Buck's voice boomed in our helmets. "Gunnery Sergeant Edward Buck, at your service. We're headed back to the command post as well. You needed some body-moving?" He looked over his shoulder. "Romeo! Mickey! Give these soldiers a hand." He nodded to me. "Nice to meet you again, Sergeant."

I nodded back. "Did you pick up your lost man?"

"Mmhmm," he murmured, motioning behind him. There was an extra trooper not there the last time I saw the squad; he was standing in the middle, hands wrapped around an SMG. His armour was standard issue; jet black, and covered with little nicks and scratches.

"I hate to rain in on your little re-union, but Kowlaski has just informed me that we have another squad that needs retrieving." Grimus stood back up and sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'd love to escort you back to the command post, but Kowlaski says these soldiers are top-priority. I'm sorry to say it, but I must be going on my way. Sergeant, if you could take my unconscious soldier to the infirmary, that would be much appreciated." He indicated down to McClellan.

"Don't worry about it, we've got more than enough men to do the job. On your way, sir."

With a brisk wave of his hand, the Army Sergeant stalked off, the rest of his troopers following close behind.

"We've got him, sir," piped up a voice behind me. The two ODST's, Mickey and Romeo, had put away their weapons and were supporting the unconscious private between them. "Ready to move."

_______


	14. Chapter 14: Progressive

_______

We legged it to the mess hall "Zulu-five". As I entered, I noticed that the place was a mess of overturned tables and chairs, and solid Titanium-A cover barriers. However, it seemed that the place was deserted. Plasma scoring and bullet cases littered the ground, complete with E-3 cartridges and shotgun shells. Blood was common here and there.

"Whoa, shit!" Before I could move forward to investigate, an absolutely massive ODST jumped up from behind cover, pointing a Genesis Launcher right at me. Immediately upon seeing the same armour, he lowered the Genesis. "It's okay, soldiers. Just a couple of our own troops returning."

At this, more heads poked out from cover. Counting them all, I noticed at least fifty. The large ODST stepped out from the cover barrier, and walked towards us.

"Ah, Sergeant Powell and Gunnery Sergeant Buck. Welcome to Deck-E Command Post. As you already know, I am Command Sergeant Major Kowlaski." He led us over to a great big block set into the ground, and, leaning down, pressed a button on the side.

A holographic representation of Deck E appeared in a light-blue 3D holographic representation.

"Let's get straight to the point; this whole deck is on lockdown, so the only way anyone can enter or exit conventionally is via the lift behind us. We've got the area heavily fortified, but the Brutes have been continuously pounding us. We've got no idea where they're coming from or how many are left, but it seems like all the landing craft attached to this deck. We've had reports coming back from all the other damaged decks that they have not encountered any hostile forces and have successfully patched up all damage. We've got a damage assessment team waiting for us to clear up so they can move in and check structural damage."

Kowlaski motioned with his hand, and the holographic map zoomed in, highlighting three red areas. "I have three teams of men currently out in the field, and they are all retrieving personnel. Plus, I have positive ID on locations for five boarding craft. These need to be destroyed as soon as we have all personnel accounted for." He turned around, facing his men guarding the mess hall. "I have my men organised into eight squads of ten, and each squad into two fire teams comprised of five men each. As soon as these three squads return, along with any additional forces, we'll move out. I'm sorry," he said, turning back to face us, "but I don't have access to an extensive armory, and you look pretty well armed, so I hope you don't mind if I leave those weapons for the returning parties."

I nodded my head, patting my Hayabusa hilt. "I've got plenty of E-3 ammo, and if worst comes to worst, I'll just slice 'em open."

"Like the way you sliced open that Chieftain?" Hodge piped up.

"He _did_ have a hammer."

"Yeah, well, if these are packing Brute Shots, or worse, Fuel Rod Cannons, you will be royally _screwed_ with that thing."

"Oh yeah? Well, as your commanding officer, why don't you _royally_ shut the hell up!"

Hodge snickered. "Sorry, sarge."

"You'd better be, otherwise I'll take away that nice shotgun and give you a puny little M6C instead."

At that, he stopped. "You wouldn't!" he said, aghast.

Kowlaski turned off the map, and went off to check his troops.

"Just you wait and see. Now, onto more important matters. D'you have any idea where the rest of the men are?"

He looked around. "The gunship I came up on... I was with Ah'gat, and some of his Elites. We took one of the Revenant gunships. I think Jensen and Sanchez took the first available craft, but that was because Jensen was-"

I looked up quickly. "What exactly happened to him? I got a nasty bump, ended up in the infirmary, and he was there too. He looked pretty beat up."

"Brute ambush, Sarge. He tried to take on one by himself, but the thing tore off his armour and give him a pretty savage beating. We got to him, though. Chung just about cut the Brute's balls of. Gave one hell of a yelp and rolled around on the ground yelping until we shot it dead." He looked off thoughtfully. "I think Chung and Jones were some of the last off ground. I was with that Liu kid."

"Why exactly where you ambushed anyways?"

"Well, after you left with Johnson to introduce him to our new weapons systems, A flood of Brutes sprung upon us. We tried to defend the warehouse, but we were forced to pull back. We decided to pull out of the city altogether, but Jensen routed a Falcon and a Phantom to your position. The rest of them followed us. We were heading for a larger battlegroup a good fifty clicks away, and we must've made it about... what, thirty to forty? Then, they jumped us again. Ah'gat must've lost at least a third of his contingent of Elites. He himself was shot in the leg by a Spiker. Made it to the Revenant, though. Still running perfectly fine, a twenty centimetre steel spike sticking out of his thigh. Amazing."

"And Jenks?" I asked, stepping up next to him. He chuckled, and turned around, facing me again. "Jenks flew the whole goddamn Falcon himself, weapons systems, shields and all. Gave the Brutes a good fright when he blasted over the treetops less than five metres from the ground, all guns blazing away. No-one else had an AI installed, so they could only use the fifty-cal's. Jenks' missiles nailed the Brutes' coffins shut."

"So our Falcon's still good?"

"I dunno if it'll be good, Sarge, you saw how hectic the return flight was. Stupid escort pilots... we were almost blown to bits by a couple of old hunks of shitty scrap metal! Seeing as Jenks had full control over the weapons, we might've gotten out lucky. We could just have some surface damage, but chances are that the ship was hit pretty badly-"

Suddenly, the sound of feet hiting metal achoed around the room. All the assembled troops turned as one, looking down a corridor leading away from the mess hall, and to where the sounds seemed to be coming from.

I looked towards Kowlaski. A second later, his voice came on over the intercom. "All units, defensive positions."

I quickly moved behind a barricade, my weapon already in my hands, Hodge right behind me. Around us, other soldiers scampered behind tables and other barricades and armed themselves, peeking over the rims of the mkeshift defences.

Voices echoed down the corridor, and then, a yell and a brief burst of gunfire, followed by a muffled explosion.

"Looks like it's going to be hot. Weapons free." Kowlaski, crouched in front of the barricade closest to the entrance in question, peeked over the rim.

The next second, a blue bolt lanced out of the corridor and slammed into his face plate, emerging from the back of his head. He fell without a word.

A flurry of laserfire flew down the hall as Marines and ODST's opened fire randomly into the dark in a vain attempt to find the sniper. One of the men bunking with Kowlaski tried to pull him back, but only made it halfway before getting shot through the throat, then the chest. He collapsed, unable to make a sound.

"Move!"

A pair of rockets shot down the hall, entering the corridor and detonating in mid-air. A Brute body was flung backwards, a destroyed Beam Rifle flying out of its hands.

We all stopped for a few seconds, leaning out and looking at the two bodies bleeding on the ground in front of us.

Suddenly, a soldier behind the barricade in front of me was yanked up-

I watched as an absolutely gigantic Brute emerged from thin air next to him, drawing its Brute Shot in one hand and slamming the blade into the Marine's back, so deep that it emerged from his stomach. He screamed and flailed around, trying desperately to remove the blade impaling him.

Hodge drew a commandeered Mauler, yelling at the Brute, but with a grunt, it threw the Marine's body at us and disappeared again. Hodge pulled the trigger anyway, and a few pellets slammed into the Brute's body armour, making it visible for a few precious seconds, enough for Hodge to re-adjust his aim and pull the trigger again, this time gutting it.

Just as another three soldiers were yanked off their feet on the other side of the room. One had her neck broken, but the other two were rescued by a trio of quick-thinking ODST's who took the Brutes down.

Pandemonium erupted around the room as multiple Brutes de-cloaked, throwing themselves at the humans. Red lights from the Human rifles created a strobing effect on the walls, and there was even a bit of blue glow where a Human ignited a Plasma sword or two and charged the Brutes.

Hodge spun a full 360o, emptying the contents of the Mauler before flinging it into a charging Brute, halting it long enough for him to leap out of cover, pull out a Genesis and proceed to beat the living crap out of it. I covered his back, taking the Brutes out where possible.

After about two minutes, he finally stopped, breathing heavily. His rocket launcher was covered in gore. The Brute on the ground in front of him hardly resembled the ape-like figure it once was.

He was still catching his breath when a Brute appeared over him.

I didn't even get his name out of my mouth. With a roar, the Brute raised its Brute Shot, and smashed him on the head. He went straight into the ground, vitals fluctuating on my VISR screen. The Brute made to run him through, but a rocket slammed into it, blowing it to high heaven. The shockwave washed over Hodge, who was flung backwards into my barricade.

I quickly ran around the barricade and dragged him back behind the Titanium-A cover. He was out cold.

"Shit."

Suddenly, something caught the corner of my eye. I slowly turned around, rifle braced in front of me.

Three Brutes were running at my position, Spikers and Maulers and god-knows-what firing at me. I ducked, yelling for someone, anyone, to help me.

But no-one came. With a crazed yell, I got up again and pointed the barrel of my rifle in their direction, then depressed the trigger. Bolt after bolt after bolt flew into them, but they didn't stop, only slowed down.

They were almost upon me when another shout came from the hallway, and the three Brutes turned around, just in time to greet a Spartan Laser beam as it sheared through them. They fell, bodies smouldering and burnt.

Fifteen soldiers emerged from the hallway, their armour burnt and scorched, sporting various injuries. The ones at the front seemed to have the worst injuries, and they staggered behind cover as the troops at the end entered the mess hall, guns still up and firing into the darkness. Howls and roars responded, accompanied with the frequent spikes and occasional grenades.

"Where's Kowlaski?" One of the returning troops inquired.

"I'm sorry to say, soldier," said Johnson, stepping out from behind an upturned table, "But the Sergeant was hit. He's dead."

"Sergeant Major Johnson, your rank makes you next in line."

"Alright, soldiers. From the looks of the Brute forces on this deck, they've got a helluva lot of the stinky bastards. We're going to bunker off here, and wait for the last two teams to return, before sending the wounded back to another deck, where they can have proper care. Then, we're gonna kick these Brute's asses!"

"Damn right we are!"

"Hoo-rah!"

"Let's do this!"


	15. Chapter 15: Time to clean up shop

_______

It took a god-damn long time, but eventually, the other two search parties returned. We had to fight off three more waves of Brutes, taking casualties at every turn. By the time we had added the rescued men to our force, the amount of men able to carry out the mission only numbered 75.

Hodge was still out cold. That Brute had hit him pretty hard, and it looked like we were sending him to another deck so he could recuperate. On the other hand, I'd located Liu, Jones and Chung. Jones had a couple of scratches and bruises, but Chung was completely fine. He didn't have a single nick or scratch on his armour, and he still carried all his original weapons he started off with.

The small company of soldiers were split into three platoons; twenty-five men each. Out of these, five fire teams, comprised of five soldiers each, made up the structure. In my team, designated Charlie Team, it was me, Liu, Chung, Jones and Johnson. As Johnson was the highest ranking NCO, he was designated overall command. We also had fire teams Echo, Zulu, Lima and Gamma along with us. We'd been assigned two boarding ships to destroy, so we'd split up further: teams Charlie and Lima were taking one, while Zulu and Echo would take the other. Gamma would hang back at an intersection between the two boarding ships,

"How far away're we, Sarge?"

"Not that far," I responded, checking my map of the level. "A couple of lefts and rights, and a few more corridors, and we should be really damn close." I looked up, still jogging alongside the rest of Charlie and Lima. We'd split off from Echo, Zulu and Gamma only a few minutes ago. One of the slightly more tech-savvy ODST's from Zulu team had gladly spent a few minutes tinkering with a ship interface to bring all the power and lights back to this level. We wouldn't be fighting in the dark.

The injured had been retrieved by a team of medics that'd taken them to Deck A, where there were much better medical facilities. This way, they wouldn't slow us down.

Johnson slowed down, up ahead. The rest of us, accordingly, slowed down as well.

"We're close, soldiers. Ready weapons, the target is just around the next corner." He motioned to me, Chung and Jones. "You boys have stealth, so it's your job to go around the corner first and give us an approximation of enemy numbers! Now, get to it! The rest of us will wait back here for your go!"

With an affirmative nod, Chung and Jones fell in behind me and we engaged our active camouflague, slipping around the corner.

_______

The lights went off again.

"Oh, for fuck's sake. As if the ship's electronic systems are this unreliable! It must be those idiots back at the terminal..."

"Keep a lid on it, Chung. Maybe you'd do five times a better job than those damn techies, but you'd do infinitely better on the battlefield. Stick tight and keep your guns up. Jones, watch our back. I'll take point. No flashlights, they can't know we're here, so go infrared."

"Powell, how's it goin' over there, son?"

"We've made some progress, sir. Looks to be a-okay, but we'll do some further scouting just in case."

"Recieved, soldier. Keep it up. Give us a yell when you've found it."

"Affirmative. Powell, out."

We continued along the hallway we were currently in, creeping along the wall, our eyes scanning for any kind of heat signal or anything.

But we got zilch.

"Johnson, it's Kurt. I don't have any readings around here whatsoever." We crepped through a "+" intersection, Jones and Chung looking down the perpendicular corridors before falling back into line behind me. "Anything?"

"No sir."

"Repeat, we aren't picking up any signals whatsoever." We turned a corner, and there was the boarding craft. It had replaced a section of the bulkhead with its own hull, and the mentioned section of hull was currently wide open.

But still no readings came up on the infrared. The metal, especailly around this area, literally glowed blue, except for the occasional light housing, which still had a bit of a red or purple tinge to it.

"Where the hell are they?"

"Sergeant, rep... what?"

I stopped, and swung around to look at Chung and Jones. They glanced at each other uneasily.

"Sarge, what if-"

"..._**BOOOM!"**_

_______

"Jesus! Sergeant Major! Do you read?"

"I...re...ou...rutes...ncoming...ge...ack...ight now!"

Not waiting for another word, I set off at a dead sprint, Chung and Jones hot on my heels.

"Sarge! They must've snuck around us via that "+" intersection! Those sneaky assholes!"

We turned the corner, going through the intersection again. Chung, however, slid to a stop, and motioned towards me. "If the Brutes snuck around through this route, we can use this to flank them, can't we?"

I nodded. "Good idea. Let's get going."

"Sergeant Powell, this is Johnson! We've got a load of Brutes pouring right at us! We've already lost five men, and we won't be able to hold this position much longer!"

"Sir, I'm sorry to inform you of this, but you're just going to have to bunker down. Chung found the route that the Brutes used to loop around you, and we're currently following them! If we can catch up, we can attack them from two sides! See if you can find another path and try and flank them on the other two sides! We can smash them right now!"

An explosion rang out through my headset, accompanied with a roar and the _-shoooooom_- of a rocket launcher. "Recieved, soldier! We'll do the best we can. Marines! Dig yourselves in! We're holding here! Johnson, out!"

The cacophony of noises stopped, and we ran on, flitting through the lonely corridors...

_______

Caesus stood at the back of the pack, watching out in case more of those filthy humans came and attacked them. In his hands he held a Gravity Hammer, although he was only a Brute Captain. He had been given this sacramental weapon by the Chieftain, who had wanted to involve himself fully in the battle and had taken Caesus' twin Maulers. With him were his packmates, two Minors and a Major, standing a few metres away.

From the sounds emnating from the hall, he thought, the pitiful humans must be being annihilated-

Out of the corner of his eye, three little silver stars flew out of a corridor to his right, banking with the design of the corridor, and thudded into the necks of the other Brutes. They wheezed, clawing at the stars, but the stars were lodged in firmly and they collapsed, spasming at the lack of air.

Suddenly, all sense escaped him. An inescapable fury poured into his head, and he roared, ripping off his power armour and crouching over, drooling on the floor.

A million thoughts ran through his head, but the one thing that stayed there was the little metal stars stabing into his packmates' necks with a -_schlick-_. With one last roar, he ran off down where the stars came from.

_______

The three of us were pressed flat against the bulkhead when the Brute roared around the corner. It was drooling all over the floor, and it had a crazed expression on its face. In its hands was a Gravity Hammer.

"Fuck!"

_Schwap-schwap-schwap-schwap-_

Jones had already pulled out his pistol, and he fired it directly at the Brute. It swung an arm out, but Chung ducked quickly, and the Brute's arm thumped into the wall. It howled, and while it was distracted, Jones rolled to the side, pumping a couple more rounds into the Brute before running dry.

The Brute frantically swung around, the Hammer following in the Brute's movements. It swung low, and Jones was forced to jump over the hammer head. The Brute, however, quickly swung its arm back, and he was caught in the chest and thrown to the ground.

"Goddamn!" Chung was back up behind the big Brute, slicing at it with an Energy Sword. The Brute roared again, trying to bat him away.

I took my chance, whipping out my pistol and mashing the trigger down once, twice, three, four times. I managed to shoot it through a kneecap, and it went down, blood spurting from its wounds. Chung leapt forward, taking the opportunity, and drove the Energy Sword straight through the Brute's head. Its whole body went limp.

"Nice throw back there, Chung," I said, moving over to Jones and helping him up. "Sergeant Major, this is Powell. We're in position. Ran into a bit of trouble, but we've taken care of it."

"Good! We're holding them off, but they keep on charging us!"

"Don't worry," I eplied. "We'll be out right away." To Jones: "Give me that Genesis. You use the Spartan Laser. Chung, you just pin them down with your rifle if any of them survive, alright?"

"Got it!"

"Let's do this! Hoo-rah!"

_______

Johnson ducked as a few spikes lodged themselves into the wall just above his head. "Goddamn it! Troops, return fire _now!"_

He watched as a trooper stuck his head out from behind a barricade and loosed a rain of laser fire down the hall. Unfortunately, the Brute he was aiming at managed to take all the laser bolts in its stride, and in retaliation it unleashed all four grenades in the Brute Shot it was wielding.

Johnson ducked back down, but not before he saw a red laser shear through the Brute that had just fired. "Our troopers down the back have arrived! OPEN FIRE!"

_______

Jones slammed into the wall, holding the Spartan Laser tight against his body. I was right behind him, launching both rockets stored in the body of the launcher.

"Go, Chung, go!" Jones yelled as he leaned out and fired again. The blood-red beam sliced through a trio of Brutes, and they dropped to the ground.

Chung was next, leaning out with his rifle and giving the Brutes a good hosing down. After using a full two mags, he ducked back into the alcove, his rifle-tip smoking.

What Brutes were left spun around, their position suddenly being attacked from both sides. Johnson, on the other side of the corridor, used this opportunity to co-ordinate fire from his troops, and the Brutes spun back, desperately trying to fight back.

It didn't take long for us to finish off the rest of the Brutes.

There was one more, lying on thr ground, a massive burn mark on its leg and with an arm blasted off. It was grunting in pain. Jones strode over towards it, and raised a boot above the head of the Brute... just as it raised a spike grenade in its fist, and, with a bloody grin, held it out between Jones and itself.

"JONES, NO-"

_______


	16. Chapter 16: Sierra

_______

"Jones is down! Jones is down!"

"I'll cover you, sir! Check him out!"

I ran over to him, sliding the last few metres. He didn't look good. I counted at least fifteen spikes sticking out of his body. The Brute was dead. It was covered in dozens of the sharp things.

"Johnson! I need to get this man out of here!"

"Roger that!" Johnson came running over as well. "Command HQ, this is Hunter-one actual. I'm sending back my wounded, repeat I am sending back my wounded, how copy, over?"

"Solid copy, Hunter-one. We'll prepare to receive injured, over."

"All Hunter teams, this is Hunter-one, I have authorisation to send your wounded back to infirmaries, over. Round them up and send them back to Rally Point Alpha, over."

A wave of replies sounded back at Johnson, but I was more focused on taking care of Jones. He was still conscious, but barely. His eyes looked just about set to roll upwards into his skull, and his breath was coming in shallow gasps. Blood leaked freely from his wounds.

"Chung! I need help moving him!" Chung clambered over to my side, followed by the marine from the mysterious planet, Liu. He extracted a folded up portable stretcher from a pouch on his back and quickly set it up while me and Chung prepared to lift Jones.

Johnson came over to me. "Sergeant, did you manage to find out the location of the enemy boarders' ship before we came under attack?"

"Yessir. It's just a bit further down this corridor, then take a right, forward for about two hundred metres, then a left, and another right, and you're there."

"Very well. I have to take the men and destroy these boarding dropships before the Brutes can escape. Do you need another man to help take Jones back to central infirmary?"

"No sir, we'll be alright," I responded, motioning for Chung to get ready to lift. "Me and Liu here will carry him, while Chung covers us. Chung, on three! One, two, three!"

With a grunt, we lifted Jones up for a precious few seconds, enough for Liu to slide the stretcher underneath Jones. Johnson and his troops set off, and we waited for them to get out of our way before we went trudging back the way we came. Chung went first, slinking ahead of us, his rifle pointed every which way, looking for more hostiles. As soon as Chung gave us the all clear, me and Liu would move out of the shadows, a bleeding soldier on a flimsy stretcher between us, and we'd shuffle for the nearest doorway.

However, after sneaking through countless doorways and hiding in innumerable shadows, Chung finally stopped.

"Five contacts. I can't see them clearly."

I slowly put Jones down. "Could it be Gamma Team?"

"I dunno," Chung whispered, keeping his eyes trained on the contacts. "I guess there's only one way to find out. STAR!" he suddenly yelled, pulling out his rifle at the same time. I copied his actions, hauling out my E-3 and pointing it in the vague direction that Chung was pointing it, while Liu pressed himself agaisnt a wall and pulled out an ancient M6D.

"Phoenix!"

"Phew, thank god..." whispered Chung. I looked at his trigger finger; he was only a millimetre from fully depressing it.

The five members of Gamma Team nervously emerged into our eyesight, their hands clutching their weapons tightly.

"At ease, soldiers. Who's in command here?" I said, moving up to the twitchy soldiers. One of them stepped out, easing off enough to snap a shaky salute. "Sergeant Alderman. What can I do for you?"

"I have an injured man that needs to be taken to the infirmary ASAP. As you can see, I have only one combat-ready individual scouting ahead for us. However, if we run into trouble..."

"I can also see that you and your squad don't like being posted here."

Alderman shook his head. "I'd love to help you, but we have explicit orders from Johnson to stay here in case he needs support..."

"Let's see if I can change that. Serjeant Major!" I hailed him over the communications net. "I've got the men of Gamma Team here. They seem to be a bit jumpy. Permission to have them escort us out?"

Johnson responded immediately. "Permission granted, soldier. We're almost finised rigging the explosives to detonate this boarding craft anyways, so Gamma Team's help won't be needed."

"Roger that," I said, turning around and looking Alderman in the eye. He sighed, and visually relaxed. "Good hunting. I'll meet you back up at debriefing."

"Copy that, soldier. Johnson, out."

I nodded to Alderman and his team. "Let's go."

_______

Going through the rest of the ship was easy with six combat effective soldiers. We were at the central lift within another ten minutes.

"Shit! Does anyone have the passcode?"

The lift was locked down tight. A glowing red console poked out of the wall next to it.

I keyed the comms net. "HQ, this is Charlie-two actual, I have one injured man on Deck E, located outside the central elevator. However, I do not have a keycode to unlock it. Request assistance, over."

"Roger that, Charlie-two. Unlocking the lift, standby."

The doors turned blue, and, with Gamma covering us, we hustled into the lift, setting Jones down with a grunt.

_______

We were halfway up to Deck A when it happened.

We emerged from slipspace, and into an all new type of hell...

_______

The lights above us stopped.

Then, the whole lift lurched, and we were thrown to the ground.

"What the fuck?!"

"What is this shit?"

"What happened? Does anyone read, over?"

_**BOOOM!**_

An explosion sounded, deadly close, and it seemed like the whole ship shook. The ones who were in the process of getting up fell back down again.

"Jesus Christ! What the hell is going on out there?!"

_______

_**Outside...**_

_________

"This is Hammerhead two-five, I read twelve bogeys coming up on your six, over."

"Recieved, two-five."

"Fox two!"

"That's three kills, good launch!"

"Roger that."

"Oh shit! More interceptors, swinging around from behind that CSS!"

"Hammerhead, this is Fire Control, I need you to lase targets for our AA missile batteries, over."

"Recieved! Lasing..."

"Targets updated. Firing in 5..."

"Ace one-six, this is Hammerhead, you have bogies on your six, evade, I repeat, evade!"

"3..."

"Ace one-six, this is one-one. I've got your back."

"Missiles away. Re-arming..."

"I read ten plus KIA on that launch, Fire Control!"

"This is Hammerhead! I've come under heavy fire, requesting assistance! I've got enemy interceptors peeling in from above, and a cruiser directly below me!"

"Recieved, Hammerhead. This is Joker Squadron. We're vectoring in on your six. We'll get those interceptors off of your back."

"All units, this is Captain Keller. You had better move out of the way, because in two mintues I'm going to hit that goddamn cruiser with everything this ship's got, and then some. Disengage and return to your stations ASAP!"

"Oh shit! You're clear, Hammerhead, now let's go!"

"Aces, form up! Let's get the hell out of here!"

_______

We emerged on Deck A, straight in the middle of a bunch of pilots who were running past.

"What's the situation, trooper?" I yelled, running up to a soldier who was taking the jog more lightly than others.

"We've come under attack! I don't know how they beat us here, but they did! We've got Brutes all around our position, and no way of getting out of this situation! We need all available pilots, now!" He eyed my ragtag team of soldiers. "I've got a couple of spare fighters down in Launch Bay Zulu. Are any of you capable pilots?"

Two of the men from Gamma stepped forward. I raied my hand as well.

"Alright! Folllow me!"

I turned to Chung and Liu. "Make sure Jones gets to the infirmary!"

"Will do, Sarge."

"Yessir!"

And, with a final salute, I was off, sprinting along with the Gamma men and the pilot to get to the Launch Bay.

_______

"Captain! All forward batteries are warmed up. The Electron Beam Cannon is at 75%, and Archer pods A through K are all armed. Waiting on your order, sir."

A pair of Falcon Gunships flew past, guns plazing at a group of Brute Seraphs chasing them. An ant-starfighter turret next to the bridge opened up on the Seraphs, and they exploded in a large cloud of gas, just before the turret was promptly shot to bits by the CSS.

"I want that fucking thing dead, and I want it dead yesterday! Commence firing sequence Beta Tango Zulu!"

"Prosecuting orders!"

On the forward hull of the _Nautilus_, well over one hunderd and fifty turrets rotated to face the CSS hovering below it. With a tremendous _**ROARRRR**_, they simultaneously opened fire, tearing through the CSS' shields like they were made from nothing, and punching countless holes in its hull.

"Sir! Brute CSS has multiple hull ruptures, and is moving to evade!"

"Captain, the Electron Beam Cannon is fully charged. We're awaiting your go."

Keller's eyes narrowed, and he stared at the CSS as it frantically tried to get away from the _Nautilus_.

"Open fire."

_______

"Let's go! Get aboard those fighters!"

Me, the two Gamma soldiers and the pilot sprinted into the Launch Bay, out of breath. Suddenly, alarm bells started ringing, and the on-deck crew started sprinting away from the fighters and towards their seating.

"Warning, deck crew: Electron Beam Cannon is firing in 5..."

"Oh shit! Get to that section of seats! Go!"

We took off without another sound, sliding into the seats just as the whole ship bucked. A second later, a loud explosion sounded, and the ship was buffeted again. We hung on for dear life.

_______

"Captain! FCO reports that the CSS has been destroyed. We hit its reactor core and destabilised it."

"Captain! We've got a big problem! I have another two CSS' incoming, and a carrier on our six!"

"Damnit..."

The junior communications officer looked up at the Captain, and at that instant, he knew he couldn't let them all die.

"Comms, patch me through to the nearest UNSC ship, on the double!"

"Yessir!" The comms officer dipped his head, flicking through all the various channels, trying to locate the nearest ship.

"FCO! Focus all fire on the two CSS' in front of us! Try to ward off that Carrier behind us, if you can!"

"On your orders, captain. All forward batteries, commence firing pattern Bravo-seven-lambert. Rear batteries, I need you to lay down fire on that Carrier. We don't have enough to take it down, but just hassle them until reinforcements arrive."

"Sir!" It was the junior communications officer. "I've got the CO of a _Galaxia_ on the line, the _Relentless._"

Keller nodded his thanks, and turned to face the viewport. "UNSC Heavy destroyer _Relentless_, this is Captain John Keller, of the UNSC _Nautilus_. I have come under heavy attack, and am requesting assistance. I have boarderson my ship and a Carrier hammering my ass. Can you assist, over?"

A female voice sounded back over the bridge, soft, yet calm, cool and collected. "Roger, Captain. This is Commander Phoebe Aston, of the UNSC _Relentless_. I have your Carrier in my scopes. Keep laying that cannon fire on it. We'll pull up from behind, over. ETA five minutes."

"Recieved, Commander. Thanks for the assist."

_______

"It's good to see you again, Flight Lieutenant!"

One of the ground crew was conversing with the pilot while he strapped himself in.

"Thanks! That last landing was hella hot, wasn't it?"

"Too right, sir! Okay, you're ready to go! Good luck!"

The pilot waved his thanks, and, with the press of a button, his fighter was moved towards the launch mechanism.

"Who's next?" The two gamma boys were already getting into other fighters, so I stepped forward.

"Get in! We've got the interceptor all ready for you, sir."

_______

"Captain Keller, this is Commander Aston. The _Relentless_ is in position for the attack on the Carrier. Just give me the word."

"Captain, the two CSS' in front of us have pulled off their attack."

The Captain turned around. "FCO, I want you to direct power to rear batteries, on the double. Commander Aston! We'll be ready to fire in just a second."

_______

"Fighter launch in 3...2...1.."

There wasn't even any sound.

Without a single whisper, the interceptor shot out of the sleek launch mechanism, through the hanger force field and banked off.

The two Gamma soldiers just stared.

"Hot damn..."

_______

Space was, as always, a cacophony of different voices communicating with squadmates, wingmen, their commanding officers, fire control crews aboard ships...

"Oi! Marine kiddo that I dragged along into this action!"

I scrambled around with my dashboard for a few seconds, before I realised I had fleetcom in my headset.

"My name is Seargent Powell! What's yours, flyboy?"

"I'm Flight Lieutenant Harper. Nice to make your acquaintance! Now help me kill some of these assholes!"

"i'm right on 'em."

It'd been a long time since I'd taken a trip in a starfighter. That ending had been distinctly unpleaseant; I ended up crashing my Longsword into a (thankfully empty) paddock. However, a Longsword was far from this piece of _artwork_: sleek and angular, it had two thrusters, a pair of chain-laser cannons on each side, and a whole arsenal of different missiles: Air-to-ground, Air-to-air, Long Range Laser-guided, Infrared. One missile for every situation possible. Some even carried a small STAN: Strategic Tactical Assault Nuke. These babies were pretty damn small, but when a group of them were dropped on the right places, they had the potential to wreak havoc. They were used for when positions were being overrun and needed to be destroyed. They had a blast radius of about 400 metres or so.

"Marine! You'll have to do as my wingman. Your callsign is Reaper Two."

"Recieved, Reaper Lead. Where do they need us?"

"They need us just about goddamn everywhere right about now, but first you need to prove yourself to me."

My gaze steeled. Hand gripped around the control stick. Thumbed the switch to warm up the laser cannons and armed the missiles.

"Light 'em up, Reaper Lead. I'll take 'em down for you."

_______

"All UNSC forces, this is Commander Joseph Danilov! I have come under heavy attack, and my Destroyer is badly damaged! I have an inbound flight of enemy bombers! Requesting assistance! Shield systems are offline, and our weapons systems have been pushed to the brink! Can anyone assist? Over!"

"Roger that, Commander. Hang on tight, we'll be there in a mike. Out."

The commander turned around. "FCO, do we have any Archer pods left?"

"Sir, we only have about fifteen missiles spread across six launchers! There are at least forty bombers there! Assuming that we don't miss-"

"I don't care right now! I'll take whatever I can get. FCO, lock targets and fire at will."

"Roger that, sir."

His radar operator suddenly frowned, then jumped up. "FCO, do not fire those missiles! I have tally on five friendly interceptors pulling up behind those bombers!"

The voice from before came back over the net. "Gentlemen, sit back and watch Reaper Flight at work."

The fighters pulled close together, and at the same time, opened up a path straight through the center of the Brute bombers.

_______

"Woohoo!"

I laughed, pushing my joystick to the side. The fighter obeyed instantly, swinging around behind another Brute bomber.

"Missile lock on." a voice sounded through the cockpit, most likely the on-board AI.

"Missile away."

I thumbed the trigger, and instantly a pair of missiles shot out of the fuselage of the fighter.

It took them less than two seconds to smash into the bomber and detonate, taking out another couple from the shrapnel.

"Good launch, Reaper Two!"

"Reaper lead, this is Five, you have two bogeys on your six, over!"

"I know Casper, this goddamn AI's been telling me that for the last five minutes! Two! Get your ass over here and save me already!"

"Roger that!"

I loosed another pair of missiles at a bomber that was making a run for the Destroyer and turned around, setting my sights on a pair of the purple bastards that were pursuing Harper. We weaved through the battlefield, the Seraphs firing on Harper, me firing on the Seraphs. However, they were good pilots; I could hardly score a glancing blow on the Seraphs.

"Lead, this is Two, they're too good! I can't hit 'em! Missles are too dangerous at such close range!"

"Sigh. My god, do I have to do everything around here?!"

The interceptor in front rolled onto its side, then disengaged its thrusters.

And it did a full backflip.

The two Seraphs shot past, caught completely unaware. They banked off in separate directions.

"Haha!" The interceptor stopped its turn right on the dime and immediately loosed two missiles. They zoomed after their targets.

"Damn, Reaper Lead, that was some fancy flying there!"

"You bet your ass it was fancy flying!"

_______

"Captain Keller, this is Aston. My ship is in position, over."

"Roger that! We're taking heavy fire from the Carrier! ASAP, Commander!"

The Commander turned around. "FCO, fire at will."

"Roger that, Commander-"

"Sabot Lead, this is Command, roll out Strike Package Bravo on the target, over."

"-All guns, you are clear to fire."

_______

As the great big Carrier chased down the fleeing _Nautilus_, a sudden line of explosions blossomed against its hull.

"Sabot Three, good hit, good hit!"

"This is Sabot Lead, coming around for another pass."

"Lead, this is Four, I have a toll on three unidentified craft inbound, swinging in from 2 o'clock."

"Recieved. Four, take Six and Three and go check it out."

"Alright. Drayton, Lane. Form up on me and... wait, looks like they're coming to us."

"Shit, they look pretty damn mean..."

"Tell me about- oh shit, it just shot at me!"

"Six, Four, Three, weapons hot, weapons hot! Take those things out!"

"Roger that!"

"I... oh shit! I've got one on my ass!"

"I see him, Lane! How the fuck did he get there?!"

"I dunno Four, but I need help now! He's hammering me with plasma here!"

"Three! Get it under control, now!"

"Roger that! Performing Pugachev's Cobra..."

"What the fuck is "Pugachev's Cobra"?!"

"You'll see in just a second!"

_______

"Sabot Lead, this is Command. What's going on out there? You were supposed to take another run on that Carrier two minutes ago, and I'm not seeing any damage..."

"Command, this is Sabot Lead! We've come under heavy fire from what appear to be three prototype Brute starfighters! They're too good, we can't shake 'em! Requesting assistance!"

"Recieved, Sabot Lead. Authorising launch of Ulysses."

"Roger! We'll hold them off for as long as we can!"

_______

On the Launch Deck, one of the ground crew gasped as he read his orders.

"Halt all launches! Get Ulysses on the launch catapaults, on the double!"

"Yessir!"

_______

"Reaper Flight! Thank you for your assistance, but we're not out of the storm yet!"

"Direct us where you need us, Commander."

"I have an inbound CSS at 2-o'clock! I'll help you get the shields down, but I need you to take it out of commission! A restock and resupply ship carrying engineers and ammunition is arriving here in three minutes, but we'll be within that CSS' range in one!"

"Roger that, Commander. You should thank whatever galactic diety you worship that our flight was equipped with Fuel-air-explosive combustion engines."

"Then go get them, Reapers. I have one last weapon aboard my ship that I installed myself; a highly-concentrated EMP blast cannon. Normally, a full power shot'd be able to disable all of the ship's functions, but the thing is right now I'm running on low power! I'll use it to disable the CSS' shields, and that should give you ample opportunity to hit it with a couple of STAN's."

"Roger that, sir. Ready to roll in on your mark."

_______

"Lane, that got you behind the hostile! You're clear to engage!"

"Three, this is Six, I've got your right side. Four's pulling up behind us."

"Roger! Opening fire."

A stream of lasers flew out of the two rotating cannons on either side of the fighter, but the Covenant prototypes dodged to and fro, and none of the lasers managed to land on the fighters.

"Fuck it! Priming missiles."

_______

"Reaper Two, this is Reaper Four, you have a bogey on your six, evade!"

"Got it, Four."

That explains all this god-damn plasma flying around me, I thought. Pulling back on my stick, I skimmed the surface of a UNSC Destroyer, and watched as the surface guns turned towards my direction.

But the Seraph was a persistent bugger. It stayed hard on my backside, taking a couple of hard hits during the process.

"Reaper Two, this is UNSC _Wildfire_, we are tracking bogey on our scopes. Request permission to blow the bastard to hell."

"Go ahead, _Wildfire_. I'll do my best to keep out of your line of fire, over."

_______

On the bridge of the _Inferno_, the flagship of the fleet, a senior communications officer perked up, then visibly paled.

"Admiral Fulham, sir! You'll want to come and take a listen to this, and fast! It's a priority-one message from the target package!"

Fulham strode over. "Sierra-117?!"

"As far as I figure, sir. It is fully encrypted with the signature work of Cortana. I've never heard the man's voice myself..."

"Play it."

A hauntingly empty and cold voice sounded out of the speakers on the bridge. To Fulham, who had heard the legend's voice himself, this sounded almost nothing like the Master Chief; hero of the UNSC, Earth and all her colonies.

"I'm broadcasting this on an unencrypted frequency in the hopes that whoever recieves this transmission is an old friend, or friends. My name... all I remember is John. I am Spartan-117, one of the last left of my kind. If there are any UNSC ships out there,-"

An explosion, shockingly loud, sounded. At first, everyone thought the _Inferno_ had taken a hard hit, but then the realisation dawned that it was actually the Chief that was under fire.

He turned around, as the blackened, burnt and destroyed interior of the _Forward Unto Dawn_.

"That, would be the Covenant. They've been pounding me non-stop for two days. It's degraded to vicious battling throughout the ship's corridors and walkways. Me, and a pitiful couple of auto-turrets, versus an un-ending stream of Brutes..."

He turned around, and Fulham finally appreciated the tiredness in John's eyes. The man was a shell of what he had once been.

"Look, if you're there, I need help, and I need it fast. Use the _Dawn_'s microchip technology to track down my location-"

A Brute suddenly appeared from nowhere, flying at the Chief with a terrible rage etched on its face.

But the Chief didn't miss a beat. He stuck out a fist, which the Brute crashed into, then got it in a headlock and punched it twice, _hard_, on the stomach. A vicious _CRACK!_ rent the air, and the Brute fell backwards.

The Chief turned back around, but suddenly, the video cut off.

"That's all, I'm afraid, sir."

A radar operator popped up, breaking the silence on the bridge. "Sir, I think the Brutes intercepted that transmission. Their forces that aren't engaged have pulled away, and are heading towards the planet as fast as they can."

The Admiral strode back to the viewing deck, pondering his next moves.

"Comunications! Order every single ship to their stations. We need to get down to that planet immediately. However, I want any Prowler-III's and any other stealth ships to set up a sizeable perimeter, and give them permission to use the experimental weapons package codemaned "INTERDICTOR".

"Roger that, sir. Issuing orders as we speak."

_______

"Whoa! Repaer flight, this is Lead, we have a new set of orders! Form up on my six."

A chorus of affirmatives sounded back over the comms net. I simply pulled my joystick up, and watched as a missile shoomed past my starfighter and totaled the Seraph on my ass.

"Two copies all. _Wildfire,_" I said, switching channels, "Thanks for the assist."

"Anytime, Reaper Two."

_______

"Sabot Flight, this is Aston. Return to your stations immediately! You have a new job, so get back here, get re-fueled, re-armed and get back out there! Let Ulysses take care of any stragglers!"

"Ma'am, this is Sabot Lead. Are you sure those UCAV's have it in them to defeat those Brutes?"

"You bet, Sabot Lead. If they can defeat Ace Tango, they can definitely take out these new fighters."

"Roger that, we're on our way back right now."

_______

Stacker and Johnson were sitting in the mess hall, eating and conversing, when Captain Keller walked in.

At exactly the same time, the speaker in the mess hall came to life. "All officers, to your stations! Repeat, all officers, to your stations!"

At once, everyone in the mess hall got up and headed for the exit. Johnson and Stacker were about to leave too, but Keller hauled them to one side of the stream of bodies exiting the mess hall.

"Gentlemen," he said, before Johnson or Stacker could say a word, "We've found him."

_______

**Lap it up! Hope you like it. It's been quite a while in the wings...**


End file.
